


Thirty Days

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 46,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach are not exactly thrilled to be working together. J.J. gives them thirty days to sort it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Therapy is Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> I intended to write this using ericandy's [30 Day OTP Challenge](http://wasserplane.tumblr.com/post/26776101761/ericandys-30-day-otp-challenge), but I've decided to finish the rest of the story without it.

"Of course we had great chemistry," Chris mutters into his glass while his sister just smiles in amusement. "I was trying to make him hit me in that scene. Kirk was trying to…" He waves away her confusion and goes back to sulking into his orange juice. "I don't want to do this."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, he probably doesn't want to do it either."

He makes a face, but she only grins. "This isn't funny. I signed on to play a part in a movie. I don't have to be his friend."

"But aren't Kirk and Spock supposed to have this epic friendship?" Katie asks, still way too amused.

"Yeah, Kirk and Spock are, _not_ Pine and Quinto. Seriously, he's such a jerk. Do you know what he said?"

"No," she says, with fake innocence. "What did he say?"

He ignores her, and the fact that he's whined about it at least five times. "What the fuck right did he have to say that? So I haven't been in much yet, and _yes_ , it was a Disney movie, but it's not like he's doing anything so monumental. He plays a brain-eating serial killer for Christ's sake!"

"I don't think Sylar actually eats people's brains—"

"Why do I even bother," he cuts her off with a groan, slumping in his seat to glare at nothing in particular and feeling entirely justified. "I should tell J.J. to go fuck himself."

She sighs, finally stops looking so amused. "Chrissy, look," she says in her big sister is soothing you now voice and he only makes a half-hearted attempt at frowning at the nickname, "you want the part, right? You hovered over your phone for weeks, and when you thought you didn't get it…"

She doesn't tack on the rest, because she doesn't need to remind him that he had been devastated.

"It's a great part," he says sullenly anyway.

"A career maker," she agrees, using words he used himself when he had been lamenting its loss. "A week ago you swore you'd do anything to get the part."

"It's called hyperbole, Katie."

"Was it, though?"

He's aware of how immature he's being, sitting across from his big sister in this empty restaurant, glaring at her like they're both kids again. He's aware, but god, he hates that guy. With his big stupid eyebrows and his perfect fucking jaw. He's hot as hell too, and there is no way Chris is ever admitting that to anyone. Not even Katie. "It might not have been," he finally admits, because she's waiting. She's good at waiting. He scowls at her attempt not to smile. "Why are you enjoying this so much?"

"I'm not," she promises, and she's only lying a little. "I just want you to be happy."

"Going to relationship therapy sessions with Zachary Quinto will _not_ make me happy."

"It's one session." She kicks him beneath the table and he sighs heavily. She smiles at him, nudges his orange juice closer. "Finish up. You have to be there in an hour."

"I never said I was going," he feels the need to point out. She's right though and he knows it. This movie could change everything and does it really matter if he has to suck it up for an hour and pretend to like the guy? He's an actor, after all. A _good_ one, no matter what that hairy asshole thinks.

\---

Unfortunately, the hairy asshole is actually pretty much the hottest guy Chris has ever had the misfortune to meet. Which might be making his own resentment three thousand times worse.

He's well aware of who the hotter one is between them, and that's not a great feeling. Not that Chris doesn't usually get that within his circle of friends. But Zach obviously knows how attractive he is. He's got that air.

He doesn't even bother to do more than glance at Chris when he comes into the not-therapist's office—where they've been told to come for their little lets be friends session. Chris doesn't even know where J.J. got the idea that they don't like each other, although honestly it has to be from Zach's end, since Chris certainly didn't say anything. He was perfectly polite during their reading, enthusiastic even. Actually, he had been fucking ecstatic. Until, Zach made his little dig afterwards.

Not that Zach meant for him to hear the little dig. It was said to J.J., when Chris was supposed to have left. He had come back for his forgotten book though, and heard Zach's biting words just beyond the door.

The book was left behind, and subsequently Chris paid the library's lost book fee—his first ever. The librarian's disapproving look behind her glasses is just one more reason to dislike Zach.

It shouldn't bother him that Zach apparently dislikes him just as much. He doesn't care really. It's just that this should be the most exciting time of his life—the lead up to the career changer. Instead, he gets to sit in this stupid metal chair, staring at Zach's knees across the room and wishing he had never heard the comments at all.

Ignorance would definitely be bliss in this case.

The door opens before he really gets a chance to work up his irritation. A woman steps out—the not-therapist, presumably. Except she is a therapist, and it's only J.J.'s meant to be soothing words from yesterday trying to trick his subconscious into pretending she's not.

She smiles pleasantly at them, obviously not in awe of who they are. Of course that might be because she apparently works with celebrities all the time. Possibly, it could also be because Chris isn't actually a celebrity.

She does seem to smile a little brighter at Zach though. Of course. And the tall jerk is smiling back at her, his stupid, perfect-toothed smile. He's actually adorable when he smiles. Stupid, hulking, hirsute asshole.

She shakes his hand, introduces herself as Regina. "And you must be Chris," she says, turning to Chris once Zach has been ushered in first.

He accepts the handshake, smiles his most winning smile. Best to get her on his side. It doesn't seem to have any effect, although she's perfectly nice. Pretty too.

She moves in after him, not directing either of them to a chair, but Zach's already picked the one closer to the door and so Chris is left to the one by the drafty window. He sits, smile in place, and waits for her to sit as well.

She doesn't though, instead leaning a hip against her desk. "I'd like to cut through all the bullshit if you don't mind."

Chris isn't at all prepared for that. He sneaks a quick glance at Zach, whose eyebrows draw together. She turns her attention to him, smiling again; just a little. She's amused, and Chris begins to wonder what the hell sort of therapy this is supposed to be. Katie would not approve.

"Zach," she continues on blithely, "you're not pleased about the decision to bring Chris on as Kirk, are you?"

The muscles in Zach's jaw tense, but only for a moment and then his face smoothes out, and he shrugs. "He wasn't my first choice."

Chris can feel his face going hot, and he basically wants the chair to swallow him up. But then Regina turns to him, that same amused smile and says, "That isn't exactly what an actor wants to hear for his first time out as leading man, is it?"

"But I was J.J.'s first choice, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" The words are out before he can stop them, not that he would. The nonchalance flees from Zach's face. He scowls at Chris from beneath his thick eyebrows, but only for a moment and then he shakes his head, rakes his hand through the thick hair that is about to be chopped into a bowlcut.

"Look, can we just get on with this?" he says irritably. The easy going smile from earlier no longer looks like it could possibly belong on that face.

"Absolutely," Regina agrees as she folds her arms. "JJ has asked me to guide you through some trust exercises. Oh, I do this all the time," she says with that same, too amused smile when Chris and Zach both gape at her. "It's very important for actors to trust one another." It's said with a certain amount of sarcasm, which makes no sense to Chris. Why send them here if she thinks this is just as stupid as they do?

"You'll need to stand up for this one," she prompts. Zach is on his feet first, no doubt wanting this over as soon as possible, with which Chris wholeheartedly agrees. He stands quickly as well. "Face one another."

Chris, for his part, turns reluctantly. Zach is already facing him, although he's not looking at him. He's got his eyes trained on the ground, his hands deep in his pockets.

Regina tsks. "I'm afraid you'll have to look at him, Zach. Come on, I'm sure he doesn't bite." Which might have made Chris smile if the air didn't feel like it might crack from it.

Zach raises his head, all expression wiped from his face. Practicing for Spock already. Proving what a great actor he is. God, what a dick.

"This exercise," Regina says, not moving at all from her perch, "will last for sixty seconds. I want you to spend that time looking into each other's eyes, and nowhere else. And I think… if you can manage it… of course you can manage it. Holding hands."

Zach's startled gaze switches to her, but she just shrugs. "You wanted to get on with it."

Regina, Chris decides as he watches Zach yank his hands from his pocket, is the worst therapist. Ever.

It doesn't help when Zach thrusts out his hands, palms up, eyebrows high and expectant. Chris' face is hot again.

"Chris," Regina sighs. "If we could?"

So Chris takes Zach's hands, which are cold, and trembling a little. Chris looks up, surprised, and gets a fierce scowl in reply. He winces too as Zach clamps down on his fingers, but he refuses to remark on it. Instead, squeezes Zach's just as hard. Well, not really because Zach is actually hurting him. A little.

"Begin," Regina says, but Chris isn't really paying attention to her. He's glaring at Zach, because Zach is glaring at him. And this is really just stupid.

"I won't fuck up the movie," he blurts and for a second, Zach looks startled. But just for a second.

"I didn't say you would."

"Well, I won't," Chris says, knowing he sounds like an idiot. "J.J. said we have good chemistry, and—"

"J.J. doesn't know what he's talking about."

"This isn't working," Regina says before Chris can find a retort. "We'll have to try something else."

Zach pulls his hands away abruptly.

"Twenty seconds," Regina sighs. "Longer than I expected." She gestures them back to their chairs, takes one this time as well, looking highly annoyed.

Chris, for his part, turns away from Zach's unfriendly face as he takes his chair again, his abused fingers throbbing.


	2. A Cuddle for Quinto

"I know," Chris says, nodding even though J.J. can't see him through the phone. "I understand completely." He doesn't really, but he's found with most directors it's better to just agree and figure out the rest later. "I'm sure it won't be a problem." Zach will think it's a big problem, but thankfully he's not a big enough star to demand Chris be dropped. Although J.J. is making it pretty plain that if they can't work this thing out between them, Zach will be the one to stay.

"The chemistry," J.J. says against his ear, "it was great. Sometimes it just take a little work to make it stick."

Whatever the hell that means.

"Of course." He's sure J.J. has no idea what he means either, but clearly, he doesn't want to have to find a new Kirk, which might be flattering if Chris didn't understand the hassle it would entail. "Thanks again, J.J. It'll be great, I know it will be."

J.J. signs off with some vaguely reassuring words and Chris is left staring at his bedroom wall wishing he had never agreed to the reading in the first place.

Thirty days.

JJ is leaving the country for thirty days and if this isn't patched up by the time he gets back, it's time to pick someone new. Chris gets that. Frankly, he's surprised JJ is giving him the time at all.

By the end of their session yesterday, it was pretty clear that Zach wanted nothing at all to do with him. His words still bring a dull edge of hurt to Chris' chest. _Not my first choice. J.J. doesn't know what he's talking about_.

They float around Chris' head like a taunt. He's tempted to let them takeover, scrap the whole idea and just resign himself to crappy Disney movies. Except he's actually earned this role.

He blew them all away with that scene. It wasn't his imagination.

And he has no idea why Zach can't see it. Why he doesn't _want_ to see it.

It doesn't make sense. And it rankles, prickles at Chris' nerves until he's too irritated to stay still.

So he goes for a run, taking his usual route, not even thinking about the fact that he and Zach live near each other. Which is why he's not at all prepared to see him when he stops for a coffee after three miles.

Zach doesn't notice him at first. He's sitting on one the couches with a girl that Chris doesn't recognise—but then they're both wearing ugly hats—and although they're not exactly cuddling, they're leaning into one another, heads bent close and giggling.

Chris turns away, all the resentment and confusion collecting again in his chest while he waits for his coffee. He eventually takes his order from the barista with a grunt and turns toward the door, but when he reaches for the handle, he bumps into someone doing the same.

"Sorry," he mutters an apology, and looks up to find Zach and the girl. They have their arms intertwined.

Zach's smile is whisked away. The girl is actually Kristen Bell and she looks confused.

Zach purses his lips, but at least he doesn't pretend not to know him. "Hey," he says briefly.

Chris is just as unwilling to part with his greeting. But he does, and Kristen looks between them.

"Friend?" she asks Zach, and turns her smile to Chris.

It hovers to surprise a second later when Zach answers, "This is Chris. Pine," he adds and he's practically oozing with reluctance to part with the information.

Kristin looks between them, her eyes widening.

"Oh." It's an enlightened sound, and that pisses Chris off. It doesn't help that her eyebrows rise and she asks Zach like it should mean something, "Chris?"

"Yeah," Zach mutters, and Kristen is looking him over with interest now. Chris ignores the heat crawling up his neck.

"Good to see you," he lies and stretches for the door again. He pulls it open, stepping back without thinking. Because his parents raised a goddamn gentlemen apparently. Even for big jerks who don't deserve it.

Kristen tightens her looped grip through Zach's arm and tugs him through. She pulls them to a stop just outside the door and although Zach says something under his breath, she ignores him and turns her smile to Chris as soon as he's out in the sunlight. "Are you excited for the movie?" she asks, her friendly tone a complete mismatch to Zach's expression. "I'm Kristen, by the way."

"I know. Hi." His own smile is probably not very convincing. But she's nice enough, although why she's friends with Zach—or more than friends, judging by the way their bodies press close—he has no idea. "Can't wait to start," he says, which is another lie. He doesn't even want to begin in the first place. "It's a great opportunity." He sounds like he's giving an interview, and not a very good one.

"I'm more excited than Zach," Kristen tells him. "I might be a bit of a Trekkie."

Chris smiles genuinely at that, but it doesn't last.

"Yeah, well," Zach says, staring at a spot beyond Chris' shoulder. "We should be going."

Kristen nudges him in the ribs, and Zach sighs. "We have a minute," she assures him—or maybe she's trying to reassure Chris. But really, there's no need. This is never going to work.

"It's all right. I have to go too." To call my agent and call the whole damn thing off.

Zach nods curtly and this time Kristen sighs after a quick glance at him. She turns back to Chris, smiling gently, in that pitying way that he used to get all the time from girls. "It was good to meet you, Chris."

"You too." That's not really a lie, although the heavy weight in his chest says otherwise.

Kristen nudges Zach again and he says reluctantly, "See you later."

Chris makes some sort of vague gesture that could be interpreted as a wave and turns toward home. He can hear her quiet, exasperated, "Zach," behind him. He picks up his pace and blocks out the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Gaming/Watching a Movie


	3. Bad Accents and Pretty Good Friends

"You can't quit just because this kid doesn't like you."

"I know, Dad," Chris says, stifling his sigh and his urge to kick Katie under the table. She's not smiling though, because it's no longer funny. Which is not comforting.

"What's his problem with you, anyway?" Robert asks with a frown. "From all reports, he's a nice guy. Talented too."

"He doesn't think Chris has enough experience," Katie says for him, not an unusual occurrence. Chris shrugs at his dad's further frown.

"He doesn't exactly have reams of film credits behind him either," his dad points out, and it makes Chris smile a little. It's good to know his family has his back anyway. Even if Zachary Quinto hates his guts. "Has he ever been a principal in a movie?"

"Um, no," Chris tells him, "but he's done a ton of television work. He's really talented." He has no idea why he's defending him, a surprise his dad and sister share. "He might be right though, and I'm not the best person for the part. I mean, they rejected me once, so—"

"Before you read with Quinto, right?" his dad breaks in, thoughtfully. "The two of you must have had something J.J. and the others saw. It's not unusual for that to happen."

"Chemistry, yeah," Chris sighs. "Which Zach says doesn't exist."

His dad taps his cigarette on the side of his coffee mug. "It sounds to me like he's trying to hard to convince himself."

"That's what I said!" Katie aims her triumph at Chris, but he just shakes his head, pushes his plate away and reaches over to take a cigarette from his dad's half-empty pack. They both ignore Katie's disapproving eye.

"That doesn't make sense," he says while he lights. "It's like he hated me on sight, before I even said a word."

"Maybe he's just your basic run of the mill asshole," Katie suggests. "There are enough of them around here."

"I guess."

"Anyway," she adds while pointedly waving away their trails of smoke, even though they're outside, "I think you're going about this the wrong way."

"I'm not going about it any way."

"Exactly. Not that I think he deserves your friendship—" Sometimes Chris really loves his sister. "—but if you want this, then you have to soften him up. What about getting the rest of the cast involved? Are they around?"

"Most of them," Chris murmurs. "But I think he and Zoe are already friends, so she'll be a lost cause."

"Women are not usually as dumb as men," Katie says in her all-knowing way, but Chris is already resigned to going along. He always does.

\---

The party, however, is a bust.

Cho and Anton are available, agreeing to come over for beers without reservation. Zoe has to rearrange some things, but promises to try. Everyone else is out of town or busy, although none of them seem to be carrying around any animosity for him.

Zach, on the other hand...

He answers on the second ring, slightly breathless but entirely cheerful in that way that means he's expecting a call.

"Um, hi," Chris says, having been half hoping that Zach wouldn't answer. "It's, um… it's Chris. Chris Pine?"

There's a longish pause. "Oh," Zach finally replies, all cheer whisked away. He sounds cautious though, not hate-filled, so that's something, right? "Hello." Reluctant.

Better than hate, though so Chris ploughs on, "Um, hi." Why, dear God, does he have to be so fucking awkward? "I was just… well, I guess I invited some of the other guys—the cast, and Zoe. Zoe might come too. Over to my house," he remembers to add that vital piece of information. "Tonight. And I was just wondering if you wanted to come too? Kind of all of getting to know each other." Lame, such a tool. "If you… wanted…"

He trails off, his face burning. The silence is deafening. And then he can hear Zach taking a breath on the other end of the line. "That sounds great," he says, and it's completely insincere. "I'm busy though." And then like an afterthought, "Sorry."

"Oh. Well, okay?" Chris rubs at the back of his neck, trying to think of something to say. Zach takes care of that.

"I'm actually waiting for a call, so..."

"Okay. Well, talk to you later-"

"Later."

The line goes dead, and Chris swallows through the slight burn in his throat, with no idea what he did to make this guy hate him so much.

\---

He can't bring himself to call Cho and Anton back to cancel. They actually sounded like they wanted to come, and he figures he'll need to make sure at least someone in the cast doesn't hate him.

Not that he expects to even make it to the first read-through. He promised his dad though that he wouldn't quit, so he sucks it up. Stocks his fridge with beer, gathers chips and various other party foods and spends the day cleaning.

His cleaning efforts are a source of constant amusement to his sister—and to the few girlfriends he's had. But he can't help it. He likes to clean, especially when he's upset. Especially when he can't figure out why he should be upset. He didn't do anything to Zach.

And his dad's right, it isn't like Zach has so much experience either. Just because he's mildly well-known as a brain-eating psychopath. Except, Chris has seen the show—started watching it after he got the part as Kirk.

And Zach is really talented.

So he deserves to have some just as talented playing opposite him in Trek.

Which is not a helpful thought. Not helpful in his cleaning efforts, and not helpful when Cho and Anton show up, grinning from ear to ear and with _The Princess Diaries_ on DVD.

"We kind of had to, man," Cho laughs at the expression on Chris' face. But it's not a mean laugh, just the casual ribbing of a friend so Chris doesn't really mind. And besides, Zach isn't hear to be an ass, so what does it matter?

"At your service," he says, smiling as he offers his TV with a flourish of his hand. Cho grins at him, punches him lightly on the arm and asks where he can find the beer. A friendship secured, as far as Chris is concerned. Anton is grinning too, follows him into the kitchen to grab drinks and Chris is so relieved at the friendly faces that he's willing to replay the entirety of his horrible filmography career for their amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: On a Date


	4. Hirsute Assholes and Their Superiority Complexes

Still on a high from last night's successful no reason to hate Chris campaign efforts, he's grinning when he steps onto Paramount's lot the following morning. He's not even imagining all the scenarios where this is the last time he'll see Trek's wardrobe people.

Not until he sees Zach on the other side of the parking lot. His mood plummets immediately.

Sally, the assistant—or whoever the hell she was—didn't mention that they also needed more measurements from Zach when she called two hours ago. But of course, she wouldn't know that Zach is the absolute last person he wants to see.

He mutters a steady stream of silent fuckity fucks as he ducks his head and veers toward the doors. Maybe if he just hides until Zach is done—and Christ, it's like he's twelve all over again and afraid to admit he wants to kiss his very male best friend.

But he's not twelve and although he would probably kiss Zach if an offer was made, this whole thing is ridiculous. He's not hiding.

With that little mental kick in the ass, Chris asks a guard for directions and finally finds the costume department. Sally the assistant leads him toward the back where things are apparently in full gear—Trek costumes everywhere.

Chris grins as he takes it in. This is seriously going to be the most amazing movie ever. And all he has to do is make nice with his co-star and it's all his.

For some reason, with all the costumes—all of it real now—it doesn't seem like such an impossible task.

Not until he turns to follow Sally like he's supposed to be doing and sees Zach behind him. Not following, not going anywhere, but just standing there, watching him.

The little hairs on the back of Chris' neck stand up, but before he has time to consider that, Zach takes a small breath and looks away.

"Mr. Pine?" Sally prompts from just a few feet away, and then sees Zach, and ushers him over. Neither of them speak, and Sally doesn't seem to notice one way or the other.

"If you'll have a seat," she offers them chairs—and refreshments. Zach asks for some kind of fancy tea with a friendly enough smile. Chris' own request for water gets stuck somewhere in his throat, but she nods swiftly and is back a moment later with water for him, and tea for Zach.

"Thanks," he manages to scrape out. So much for easy. She smiles and apologizes because of the wait. There's a bustle all around them, lots of other cast members, mostly extras and Chris is grateful they haven't been set apart, or sent to some other, cushier room to wait.

Normally, he hates a lot of activity, but sitting alone in a room with Zach sounds even worse right now. He concentrates on his water, soothing his parched throat and keeps his head down, listening to the bustle instead of participating.

"Chris?"

His head comes up, and he smiles immediately. "Chloe. Hey." He stands and she grins, leaning in to kiss him lightly before hugging him. "I didn't know you were working on Trek."

She tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear, still grinning while keeping an arm around his waist. "Just got the job, actually. I was hoping I would see you. How _are_ you? You look great."

"Thanks." He can see Zach watching them out of the corner of his eye, trying to psyche him out or whatever he's doing. "I'm good. Been busy."

"Well, yeah," she laughs. "You're Captain Kirk! I can't believe it. Are you excited? You must be so excited. You were so up—"

"Yeah," he says quickly, running over her words. Sometimes, he wishes his sister didn't know quite so much about his life. But then, not all of her friends are quite as chatty as Chloe. "I'm psyched. So look, can you help with this? We're in for measurements."

"Oh! Sure." She glances over Chris' shoulder. "Zachary Quinto, right? Spock?"

All she gets is a curt nod, so apparently Zach hates everyone who might like Chris. Wonderful. At least Chloe doesn't seem to be in awe of Sylar and his meaningful eyebrows. Petty, maybe, but Chris basks in smugness for a moment anyway.

"Hold on a minute," she tells them. "Let me grab a tape." She turns back to Chris though, pinches his side playfully. "You are going to _love_ having me around."

"Yeah," he agrees, trying unsuccessfully not to giggle—he's ticklish, damn it and that's another problem with having friends that are also friends with his sister. She just grins and goes off to find her measuring tape. He shakes his head, glad to have another ally around.

He turns around without thinking about it, still smiling and finds Zach hasn't stopped watching.

He's got his eyes narrowed, and seriously, what the fuck? "What's your problem?" he demands, the words out before he can stop them.

Zach is startled out of his aggressive surveillance, but only for a moment and then he's straight back to that supercilious frown he does so well. "Nothing."

"Yeah right," Chris retorts, because you know what, fuck this. "I know you don't want me here, but do you have to be such a dick about it?"

"I…" The gorgeous asshole actually looks confused, which only makes Chris feel all the more vicious, not something he experiences often so he latches onto it.

"Because you're so superior with your brain-eating psychopath credits, right? You've never even _been_ in a movie."

And there they go, those eyebrows, drawing together and making Zach look murderous. No wonder he makes such a good psychopathic killer. It's a bit more difficult to come up with more vitriol under that glare.

"Do we really want to compare filmography, Pine?" he asks with a snort. "Because I'm pretty sure a turn as a Disney prince with a bad accent and an award for best performance in an otherwise inexplicable film doesn't exactly give me much competition."

The words are knives, vicious and perfectly wielded. Chris swallows, his chest so tight it's difficult to breathe. "Yeah," he finally says, the word coming out too strangled, but it doesn't really matter. "You're right."

Some of the spite smoothes from Zach's expression, mostly because his eyebrows draw away from each other. He lets out a long breath, glances away briefly. "Look," he says after a pause that doesn't do much but give Chris' insides a chance to curl in on themselves. "I probably shouldn't have… " He waves that away though. "We have to work together, so—"

"No, we don't," Chris interrupts the quiet non-apology and it still hurts to breathe. He feels like he might throw up, actually. "J.J. gave me thirty days to work this out, but what's the point? So fine, you win. I quit."

He turns away, nearly crashing into Chloe as he does. She steadies him with a hand on his waist. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing," he mutters. "I've just… things to do." He doesn't look at her, keeps his eyes down. "I'll do this later, okay?"

"Chris?"

He shakes his head, moving away before she can substitute in for Katie and force it out of him.

He walks quickly, away from the bustle, away from the costumes—away from his career maker. But he knows Zach's right, no matter how awful it feels to hear it. He had no business being here anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Kissing


	5. Erections and Ammunition

"Please tell me you're not quitting over that jerk?"

It takes a second for Chris to register that it's Katie on the other end of his phone and another to wake up enough to rasp, "What?"

"I just talked to Chloe."

"Chloe?" he echoes blankly. "How does she even know—"

"She asked Zach why you left."

"Oh, god…"

"Actually, she told him to stop being such a jerk—"

" _What?_ "

"Chris," she ignores his splutter. "You can't quit. Seriously, and you promised Dad—"

"Why would she do that?" Chris demands, feeling panicked. "She can't say that to him. She'll get fired."

"She already did say it, Chris, and you know she loves you, so…"

"Oh my god," he groans, finally sitting up and trying to figure out where the fuck he put his pants. "What time is it?"

"Are you _sleeping_? Chris, it's four in the afternoon."

" _Shit_."

"Just tell me you didn't already quit."

"I have a meeting in like five minutes with my agent. Katie, I gotta go. Tell Chloe I'm going to kill her."

"Chris—"

But he's already hung up. Of course he was asleep. What else is there to do besides drink? God, what the hell was Chloe thinking? She's going to lose her job and that's just one more thing Chris will have to feel like shit about. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

The steady mantra of despair doesn't help him find his jeans.

He gives up after realizing he can wear something else—god, he's losing it—and shoves his legs in, zipping on his way out of the bedroom. At least he slept in his shirt, and although it's wrinkled to hell…

Who the fuck cares? He's about to kill his career, and resign himself to who knows what. Maybe he can find a play or something. Or give up acting altogether and go to grad school.

His phone rings before he makes it out the door. Thinking it's his agent, he cringes as he answers. "Sorry, I'm late. I'm on my way."

"Chris?"

He's so startled, he nearly drops his phone.

"Um, it's Zach," the deep voice continues hesitantly. "Zachary Quinto. Do you… I mean, do you have a minute?"

If he was a little quicker on his feet, he would come up with something suitably snarky to say, but since he's not, he manages an incoherent, "Uh… I guess, yeah?"

He can hear Zach's breath rushing against his ear. A deep breath to follow that. "Oh. Good. So, look… I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have said all those things. You didn't actually quit… did you?"

He's about to explain his imminent trip to his agent's office, but seeing as Zach will probably use that as a weapon somehow, he says, "No."

Another strange pause, breath filling his ear. "Oh. Are you going to?"

He's not sure if it's a challenge or not. It annoys him. "No."

"Okay." Zach's voice is quieter, smaller, and Chris can't find anything to say. There's a few beats of breath, and it's impossible not to picture his lips, wonders how they'd feel ghosting warmth across his face. "I guess… I'll see you around then?"

Chris swallows, feeling stupid for the flush that heats his face, and the sudden tightness in his jeans. "Yeah," he says quickly. "See you."

The line goes dead, and Chris stands there against his car, willing his erection away and wondering what the hell Chloe said to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Wearing each other's clothes


	6. When a Hat is Not a Hat

He debates whether or not Zach simply has some sort of mood disorder, going back and forth between quitting and sticking it out to prove J.J. was right to cast him in the first place.

After an irritated call from his agent—and a calmer, but just as irrefutable one from his dad—he lands on sticking it out.

With the option to flee.

Because he's also decided that Chloe must have some dirt on Quinto; his apology never would have happened otherwise. She insists she doesn't though, insists she didn't call him a jerk. "I _suggested_ there's more to you than Disney movies and straight to DVD releases, that's all."

"Um, thanks?" he says to her over the phone, after asking her if she lost her mind.

"I couldn't just let you quit," she says reasonably. "And besides, he _was_ being a jerk."

"Okay, but knowing he's a jerk… he's probably going to get you fired."

"Then I'll find a different job."

"Chloe—"

"Look, shit head," she interrupts and he lets her go on, too surprised not to, "—don't let him blow this for you, okay? You got this part because they knew you would be great. So, _be_ great."

She hasn't called him that since they were kids, and he, being the amazing kid brother that he is, was demonstrating how awesome boogers can be. In his defense, he was six at the time and completely smitten.

"Thanks," he says quietly, when he can find his tongue.

"You're welcome, Chrissy," she says, a laugh in the words, and then she's gone before he can retort. He sighs as he hangs up, feeling conflicted. He's not quite naiive enough to think it'll be so easy, and he's still suspicious about Zach's motivation, but hey, if Chloe has compromising pictures, it just might work.

\---

He's still vacillating when he stops for coffee after his run, vacillating enough that he changes his order to water instead, much to the annoyance of the barista. He mumbles an apology and ducks outside.

"Chris!"

He pauses as he's about to cross the street, turning to find Kristen Bell sitting at one of the tables outside the coffee shop—with Zach squished up next to her. Well, actually, he's hissing something at her, but she ignores him and waves at Chris to come over.

Reluctantly, he turns and walks over, although his brain is telling him to turn around and also to find a new coffee place. And a different jogging route. And maybe a new fucking apartment while he's at it.

He's also _convinced_ now that Chloe has dirt on Zach. Just by watching his body language, the heavy sigh and another hissed comment to Kristen. He's wearing sunglasses and a really ugly hat and he's got his face turned toward the table, his fingers in tight fists on its surface. She's wearing a hat too, one that clashes with her dress.

"Hi!" Kristen says cheerfully, while also digging an elbow into Zach's side in a way that looks like she's trying to be discreet. It's not. "Look who it is, Zach! How are you?" She waves at him, a bright smile on her face. Honestly, she looks a bit deranged. Maybe Chloe has dirt on her too.

Or probably both of them. Fucking. Really kinky fucking, the kind that you never want anyone else to know about.

Chris shuts those thoughts off immediately, and also the stab of jealousy he refuses to even acknowledge. Zach _hates_ him. He should not care about the fucking habits of someone who hates him.

And just to prove he doesn't, he sits in one of the empty chairs.

"I'm good," he answers, with one of the smiles he knows are the reason for most of his film credits in the first place. At least he has a pretty face. "Hey, Zach, long time," he adds, hoping it might break the tension, but Zach's answering smile is tight. Kristen puts a hand over his, failing to be at all casual about it as she squeezes.

"You live around here, right?" she asks.

Chris pulls his eyes from their hands. "Yeah, around the corner."

"Zach's place is just down the street." She points with her free hand, and Zach shakes his head just enough that Chris figures he's probably rolling his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

"Yeah, I remember hearing that," he agrees, when really he went out if his way to find out after realizing they shared the same trainer.

"And don't you have the same trainer?" she asked. Chris has a moment of bizarre panic that she can read his mind.

"Um, yeah. I mean, I guess?"

She turns to Zach. "That's so weird, isn't it, Zach?"

"Yeah," he grunts. "Weird."

"Well," she says brightly, after a quick frown at Zach that he doesn't see, and makes a show of looking at her watch, "I actually have to run, but Zach will keep you company. He has nothing to do."

"Okay," Chris says warily as she stands. Zach's grabbing her hand like a lifeline, as though he's afraid Chris is going to eat him or something if she leaves them alone. She bends down to kiss his cheek, whispering something that Chris can't hear.

"See you later, Chris," she says cheerfully. "It was good to see you again."

"You too." What else can he say?

She turns back before she's fully away, pulling the hat off her head. "Oops, this is yours, Z. Wait. Here," she adds with a laugh. She plops it on Chris' head and grins. "Zach has the ugliest hats. Looks good on you." She kisses his cheek too, which startles Chris so much that he knocks over his water—thankfully, it's capped.

She's gone after that, in a wave of flowery perfume and high heels. Chris rights his water, his face on fire and sees that Zach's mouth is in a tight line. With his face burning anew, Chris fumbles with the hat and quickly hands it across the table. "Sorry," he mutters.

Zach turns his head as he scrunches the material in his fingers. When he turns back his face has smoothed out, but he doesn't release the fabric. "I actually do have to be somewhere in a minute," he says, words clipped. "You don't have to stay."

"Oh." Chris can feel sweat dripping from his sideburns, slipping down his chin, and he wonders if Zach thinks he looks disgusting. He probably smells disgusting. "Okay."

Zach nods tightly, looking away again and yeah, this isn't going to work at all, kinky sex tapes not withstanding. But that same gut reaction, that need to prove Zach wrong, or at least to prove that he doesn't _have_ to resign himself to crappy movies forever makes him stay where he is.

Zach turns back to him after a few increasingly awkward seconds. His knuckles are turning white where he's pinching the hat. Hatred, it seems, might not begin to cover it. Or maybe he's embarrassed about being forced to apologize? Pissed about it?

He still thinks Chris is an untalented hack, that much is pretty clear. Okay, so maybe appeal to his vanity. Soften him up, Katie had said. Plus, Chris knows he _is_ lacking in the experience department.

Zach might be lacking in film credits, but the man can act.

And Chris has very little pride.

"So, um," he begins carefully, just in case Zach has forgotten about whatever Chloe said to him and is about to attack him again, "I thought… maybe if you could give me some pointers? Or I don't know, we could read lines together or something?"

Zach's lips part just slightly, enough for Chris to know he wasn't expecting that. Plus, his scrunched eyebrows are visible just above the rim of his sunglasses.

"So you won't have to worry about me dicking things up…" he trails off.

Zach shuts his mouth, but not before mumbling, "Oh my god," not very quietly. He frowns and shakes his head. "You don't have to…" His lips purse and seriously, this might be a whole lot easier if Chris could see his eyes. It's impossible not to stare at his mouth.

"Look, you insulted me, so." Zach shrugs. "It wasn't…" His fingers flutter as he tries to find the right word—or maybe to avoid another insult. "… accurate. Most of your movies, they just had bad plots, and the others—"

"You watched my movies?"

His pretty lips press tight and then with the ease of a very skilled actor, his shoulders lift and relax. "I did that with the others who auditioned too."

"Oh." Chris scratches at his water bottle, tries not to stare at Zach's lips and ends up staring at his ear instead. Which is sort of a weird shape, and so he's just as mesmerized. "So, what do you think?" he finally asks into the silence. "About reading together?"

Zach's looking at the table, or at least his face is pointed that way. Chris watches him swallow. "I guess we could," he says, in that same reluctant tone. "If you need to."

 _What I need is for you to stop being an asshole_ , Chris thinks. What he says, however is a very polite, and tempered, "That would be great. Thanks."

Another quick nod, and then nothing else; he's just sitting there staring at his hat.

"Do you," Chris hesitates when Zach sighs a little and lifts his head; Chris can see his own reflection in the glasses. "Um… my house? Tomorrow?" Better to just get it over with probably, and also, he can use all the help he can get.

"We can just meet here," Zach answers, and this time his eyebrows lift above the frames. Chris decides he doesn't realize a challenging glare is not very effective when covered by dark lenses.

"Okay," he agrees, because really, what does it matter? He doesn't really want Zach at his place anyway. "… Same time?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Three o'clock."

Does this guy even know how to ask a question? But then, he's doing Chris a favor, so… "OK. I'll, uh… see you then, I guess. Thanks."

Zach stands, pulling the crumpled hat to his stomach. At this point, Chris will be surprised if he doesn't throw it away. Seeing as it _touched_ Chris; the horror. "See you tomorrow," Zach says shortly, waits stiffly for Chris to echo and then turns on his heel.

Chris watches until he's out of sight. He passes two trash cans on the way down the street, but the hat stays firmly in his grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Cosplaying


	7. Once More, With Feeling

He gets a text from Zach two hours before they're supposed to meet. **zoe's going to read with us. her place. 3:00**. With an address to follow.

And like the good little sycophant he is, Chris texts back: **OK.**

Both relieved and annoyed at the buffer, he arrives at Zoe's doorstep with two minutes to spare.

She opens the door, all smiles, as friendly as she was when Chris met her several months ago at some party. "Zach's out on the patio."

He follows her outside, where Zach is again wearing sunglasses, but no hat. "Hey," Chris says in greeting, nonchalant, easy going, nothing at all to be uncomfortable about.

"Hey." A quick lift of Zach's head, and nothing more.

"Who wants drinks?" Zoe asks brightly, and Chris has a sneaking suspicion that a threesome is in Chloe's sex tape somewhere. "Chris?"

He brings his attention back. "Sure, whatever you have."

"Beer?"

"Sounds great."

She smiles at him and disappears into the house. Zach's frowning at the script pages in front of him. They haven't been given the whole thing yet—J.J. and his paranoia—but it will be enough to start with.

"So," Chris begins awkwardly, shifting in his chair and then forcing himself to stop when Zach lifts his head again. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"You, uh… know Zoe pretty well?"

"Well enough."

God, but he's prickly. And impossible. Impossibly gorgeous, with his unshaven face and hair falling over his forehead.

Chris looks away, concentrates on smoothing his script on the table. "Do you know how you're going to play Spock?"

"I've spent some time with Leonard. A lot of time, actually."

Chris looks up, but the soft words are finished, Zach's face downturned still. He doesn't understand the wistful tone, but he wishes for a moment that he could spend some time with Shatner. "That's awesome," he says just to fill the silence. Of course, Zach hasn't actually answered the question. "I've been thinking a lot about Kirk, and that first scene, when George dies. Having his dad die like that," he goes on even though Zach still isn't looking at him, instead fiddling with a corner of the script, "it would define his character, basically throughout the entire movie. But in subtle ways, how he interacts with Pike especially. And later, Spock. Any authority figure, really."

"Not every person who loses a father has daddy issues," Zach says quietly, but there's less bite there than Chris would expect. Zach lifts his head. "But, yeah, in Kirk's case, it's pretty obvious that's how they want you to play him."

Not knowing how else to respond to the subtle insult except to pretend he's oblivious, Chris nods. Zoe comes back out then, with drinks and a grin. "I forgot about these," she says once she's deposited the beers on the table. She's waving a small package in the air, and Zach immediately groans.

She laughs and Chris watches, confused and intrigued, while she pulls opens the mostly transparent plastic packaging and plucks out an… ear?

A fake, and very pointed ear.

"Oh my god, Zoe." Zach bats her hands away, but he's half-laughing too and Chris finds himself unable to look away from them.

"They were left over from Halloween. They're elf ears, really, but… Oh, come on, _let_ me," she whines and gives a bit of pout, to which he sighs and gives up. She takes his glasses off. "We need to get you into character, and I couldn't wait to see this." She combs her fingers through his dark hair, lifting it away from his ear. "You look adorable." Once she's done fiddling, she plants a hand on the top of his head and turns the ear toward Chris. "Doesn't he look adorable, Chris?"

"Yeah, he does," Chris answers without really thinking about it and then wishes he hadn't. Zach pulls away from Zoe's hold, his eyes slanting fast to Chris' face and Chris stops smiling. Because Zach isn't smiling.

He tugs the ear off, handing it off to Zoe; standing and asking in a voice too high, "Did you say you have hummus? I'm starving."

She takes the ear with a little sigh, but instead of answering, she turns to Chris. "We're going to a party tomorrow night. One of my friends. You should come."

"Oh. Um…" He doesn't look at Zach.

"John and Anton are coming," Zoe tells him. She gives Zach a push toward the kitchen, but he only moves an inch. "Probably Karl too, if he can make it."

When he doesn't answer right away, she smiles. "I'll give you the address before you leave."

"OK." It seems to be his default for everything these days.

Still smiling, she takes Zach's hand and tugs him inside. He can see them, watches them talking, heads close together—it's mostly a matter of him leaning down to her.

Chris ducks his head, beer tucked in his grip, still watching with the feeling that he's intruding. Especially when she rises up on her toes to kiss his cheek. She slides an arm through his and then says something that makes him laugh.

Chris can barely see his face, but he can see it's relaxed. With everyone else he feels at ease. With everyone else he's friendly, _happy_.

With everyone else.

Chris turns away to stare, unseeing, at his script, wondering what the hell makes him so different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Shopping


	8. Eat, Drink, and Don't Bother with the Merry

Badgered by both his parents this time—and Katie—Chris goes to the party.

He brings Chloe as armor.

Once she convinces him she doesn't have a sex tape.

"Who even thinks of that?" she asks, laughing and exasperated, mostly laughing, as they pull up to the huge house where Zoe's friend lives, and Chris thinks she probably doesn't want to know why his mind goes so easily to kinky sex. "Where would I get a sex tape? Of the three of them?"

"Okay, fine, so you don't have a sex tape," he gives in, because okay, fine, it _is_ kind of ridiculous. "And if you didn't call him a jerk—"

"I really didn't." She's still laughing at him. "I just talked to him. I was subtle, and he was jumpy."

"Jumpy?" he echoes as he slams the car door home and walks around to the other side to offer her an arm. She takes it absently.

"Guilty. He felt bad for being a jerk."

"Then why does he _keep_ being a jerk?"

"He talks first and regrets later?" she guesses with a shrug. "Or maybe he's threatened by you."

He rolls his eyes. "Right, Chloe, I'm sure that's it."

"You know, Chris, one of these days, you're going to have to start believing in yourself."

"But not today," he says with a smile. She can't help but smile back. His smiles are good that way. His smiles he can believe in, easy. "Come on," he says, cheered up despite himself. He rings the doorbell. "You'll like Zoe. She's gorgeous."

She makes a face. "She's friends with Zach. And possibly sleeping with him, according to your sex tape theory."

"Pretty sure he's sleeping with Kristen Bell."

"In his sex tape?"

"God, you're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Probably not."

He makes a face at her, but she's enjoying his stupidity too much. Too much like Katie, always. Probably why they've been friends for decades.

The door is opened by someone he doesn't know, Zoe's friend Matt. He recognises Chris though, which is disconcerting. "Chris Pine, right? Oh man, my boyfriend is going to _freak_. Come in, come in. Kevin!" He turns as he shouts, motioning them in at the same time.

When they step in, Chris closing the door behind them, Matt has a tall guy by his side, incredibly gorgeous, dark hair, dark eyes—exactly Chris' type. He's grinning, fingers clutching at Matt's sleeve.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he says, breathless. "I wouldn't do this, but oh my god, I met Shatner at a con last year, and now _you're_ here." He actually squeaks at the end, and then breathes again, "I'm so sorry."

But Chris smiles, because he's human and he's got an ego same as the next guy. His agent told him this would happen, but he didn't believe it. "Well, I'm no Shatner," he says, flattered all the same. Kevin shakes his head, grips Matt tighter, who looks both amused and mortified.

"No, no, this is so amazing," Kevin tells him. "Can I show you off? Please say I can show you off?"

"Uh, if you want…" Chris is still smiling, bemused as Kevin nods eagerly, sort of gestures him forward like he's afraid to touch. "This is my friend, Chloe," Chris adds, and Kevin hyperventilates at her too and within a minute they're surrounded by people—not exactly his favorite thing, but they're all nice, most of them with no clue who he is but willing enough to listen to him talk about Trek, at Kevin's insistence.

Chloe eventually nudges him, when the conversation has moved to other things, mostly because Matt pulled Kevin away to help him with drinks. "Zach's here," she tells him when he leans in to hear her over the low rumble of conversation. He follows her glance, finds Zach in a similar group of people, but he's clearly enjoying himself.

He's animated; gesturing and laughing.

Zoe appears at his elbow, and he grins, says something and the rest of the group laughs—Zoe included. When he turns his head to say something to someone else, Chris doesn't look away fast enough and their eyes meet. The smile freezes on his face.

Chris wants to look away, but he can't. Zoe sees him next and she waves, says something to Zach, to which he shakes his head quickly.

Dropping his eyes, Chris tries to force the tight feeling away, and the heat that immediately rises in his cheeks. Not embarrassment though, just anger.

"What is his problem?" Chloe asks out of the corner of her mouth, quiet enough that no one else can hear.

He shakes his head, throat still burning. What the fuck could have possibly done?

He didn't do _anything_.

"Chris—"

He looks up at her whispered urgency. Zach and Zoe are on their way over, and clearly Zach wishes he wasn't. He's not being _dragged_ , exactly, but close enough.

Chris puts on a neutral face, and wishes he had a drink to keep his hands occupied, but before he can slide them into his pockets, Zoe is greeting him, kissing his cheek as if they've been friends for years.

Which Chris doesn't mind. She's nice enough, even if she is in cahoots with the enemy. "Hey."

"I'm so glad you came."

"Thanks. No, me too," he says, awkward and stupid. Every single time. Maybe it's the way Zach isn't looking at him. He turns to Chloe before Zoe can nudge him into speaking. "This is Chloe."

"His friend," she adds, emphasis most definitely included, and Chris is amused instead of insulted. Zoe greets her enthusiastically, a kiss for her as well.

"Have you met Zach yet?"

"The other day," Chloe tells her.

"She's working on costumes for the movie," Chris chimes in.

"Really? Do you know Anna?"

And apparently Chloe does. While they're scanning the room for her—and Zach and Chris steadily avoid eye contact—Matt and Kevin reappear. Kevin doesn't do the same bit with Zach, but then they seem to know each other, the easy way they fall into conversation.

Anna, by this point, has been found, and the three women are happily engaged. Chloe glances back at him, eyes raised in question but he just smiles his encouragement for her to enjoy herself. Zach, it seems, has no intention of spitting vitriol.

"The caterer is _useless_ ," Matt is moaning, and Chris wonders if he's a little drunk. "Doesn't know anything about wine, and we're all out up here. And _I'm_ useless. I have no idea what goes with crab."

"I could point something out for you," Chris offers, and all three look surprised. Well, not Kevin, who still looks star struck.

"Really? Oh wow, that would be great," Matt says. "Zach, be a doll and take him downstairs? Zach knows the way," he explains while Chris tries not to shake his head like a deer in a trap.

Zach's jaw tightens, but at least he doesn't tell all and sundry that he hates Chris' guts and would probably rather offer his own piss with the crab than go downstairs with him.

"Sure," is what he says though, smiling a little. Not at Chris, but if you didn't know any better you could assume. "This way."

He takes a sharp right, leaving Chris to follow after. Which Chris does. Ducking away from Chloe's worried frown—and away from Matt telling Kevin a little too loudly that he can't have Captain Kirk's ass.

Chris doesn't have time to be mortified. He's too busy trying to keep up with Zach. They wind through hallways, back toward the kitchen, during all of which Zach greets various people, never stopping to introduce him.

When they finally get to the door leading to what Chris assumes is a wine cellar, he does hold open the door though, instead of letting it slam in his face. Lets Chris go first, and that same prickly feeling makes the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.

Zach at his back, in this close space. Chris couldn't have explained the reaction; he's not claustrophobic. At least he never has been. But then he's not usually in close quarters with people who hate him.

By the time they get to the bottom of the stairs, he's keyed up enough that he trips over his feet in his haste to get out of the way. Zach catches his elbow to steady him. But the touch singes, like electricity. He blinks, startled. Zach is right there, his eyes nearing black in the low light. Chris' hand flexes, and he almost reaches to touch his face.

He stops himself in time, before the motion is even noticeable. Hoping Zach can't tell his cheeks are burning, he tugs his elbow away with a mumbled, "Sorry."

Zach's eyebrows crumple. He shakes his head, and his voice is gravelly as he mumbles back, "Its fine," before pulling away and moving into the belly of the cellar.

Chris doesn't go with him, even though he's been sent down with the express purpose of picking out wine. Zach's got his arms wrapped around his torso, but it's not that cold. He finally turns around when Chris doesn't move, lips parting to bring forth impatience.

Chris beats him to it. "What did I do to you?" It comes out calmer than he expects; quieter; the room should make him echo.

Zach's jaw does the same little twitch, and if anything, he hugs himself tighter. But his voice is flat when he answers, "Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like it. Look, if I offended you or something—was it that comment about not doing any movies yet? Because you've done some amazing projects."

"You didn't offend me," Zach says before he can go on, snappish now. "Can we just get on with this?"

"Well, if that wasn't it, what was it?" Chris insists. "If it's because you think I'll fuck up the movie—"

"It's _not_." Zach's arms are a jerky emphasis as he unwinds them and rakes fingers through his hair. He half turns away, sighing. "I'm just not very friendly."

"Yeah, that's crap."

Zach swings around to look at him, but Chris just looks back at him. It is crap. With every other person Chris has seen him with, he's friendly. He fucking lights up the room.

"We have to work together," Chris says instead of that. That might sound weird. Really weird. "If you're not just waiting for J.J. to come back and fire me." Which, suddenly makes a whole lot of sense and with that realization, hysterical laughter bubbles up. He bats it down. "Wow, you really are a dick."

"And you're delusional."

Chris opens his mouth to retort, but Zach looks on the edge of hysteria himself and it deflates Chris' anger. "Well, what do you want me to think?"

"Think whatever you want." He's back to folding his arms, back to the aggressive, biting tone. "I'm not waiting for J.J. to fire you, but if that's what you want to believe…" He waves his fingers dismissively.

"I'd believe it less if you could manage one nice word."

"I already said you have talent," Zach retorts.

"Wow, thanks," the sarcasm comes easily. Zach doesn't say anything, just looks away again. If this wasn't Chris' career maker, he would go back upstairs and find Chloe. Give up and just let Zach win. Be great, Chloe had said. And if this is what it takes…

Fuck pride.

"Can't we just… I'm not saying we have to be friends..."

"We don't need to be friends," Zach says firmly, and why there's need for bitterness there, Chris is beyond trying to figure out.

"Not friends, got it," he echoes, still heavy with the sarcasm "I have enough friends. I just wanted to read lines together, but if it's like some horrible torture—"

"Oh my god," Zach says, like a tiny explosion, "I'll read lines with you." It's not encouraging. It's also humiliating.

But he hears himself agreeing, "OK." He stops himself from saying thank you.

"Great," Zach punches out a breath. "Can we get the wine now?"

Chris' skin is tingling, skin pulling tight at the base of his skull. It's ridiculous that Zach makes him feel this way, anticipation where there should just be antipathy. Or at least resentment. There isn't any though. And that's even more humiliating.


	9. Eat, Drink, and Don't Bother with the Merry: Part 2

\---

He skirts around Zach to get to the bottles, and Zach, he notices, pulls back as well. To make sure they don't touch. Which is fine with Chris.

He's scowling as he scans the rows of glass bottles, but he's not sure if he's angry with himself or with Zach.

"We need white," he says, mostly to himself as he moves along. "How many do you think he wants?"

"I don't know."

"Well, how much does he usually have?" Chris asks impatiently, still glaring at the wine in front of him.

"I'm not sure."

Chris sighs. "We'll just take what we can carry then." He doesn't add that Zach is incredibly unhelpful. _Get along with the co-star_ , he tells himself firmly.

"There are crates in the corner," Zach says after a minute, but as ever, he sounds like he'd rather bite off his tongue than actually talk to Chris. Chris makes a face at the Riesling he's holding. "Great. Can you get one?"

Friendly, professional. He can totally do this.

He's actually reassured when Zach moves away to get the box, reassured that he might be human after all. Chris hands over the Riesling when he returns and Zach takes it without comment, without looking at him either, and puts it carefully in the crate.

Chris selects two more that should work well with crab, although it would be better if he knew how it was being served. What he needs though is an edgy white from Burgandy. Which, unfortunately, are higher up.

"I need to go up," he says, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he gestures toward the shelves above their heads. "If you could hold the ladder?"

Zach goes to the ladder without speaking and Chris would like to say something vaguely mean-spirited, just for the sake of it. He doesn't, because he's nice, unlike haughty assholes with very high opinions of themselves.

He ducks his head as he climbs up quickly, but Zach is holding the ladder with a firm grip and Chris doesn't really think he would let him fall. He's probably not homicidal.

Chris hopes not anyway.

And man, he needs to become friends with Matt—just for his wine. He sees a Rully to the left, a little too far out of reach, but it would be fucking amazing with crab, so he stretches, fingers reaching. Can't quite make it though, so he shifts to the left of the ladder and it shifts with him. He jerks in surprise.

"Jesus," Zach hisses below him. "Be careful."

"I am," he snaps back. "If you would actually hold the ladder."

He can see Zach's fingers gripping tighter, but none of his face—which is probably just as well. He ignores the simmering annoyance that has taken up residence in his gut and leans out again, and this time, he overshoots and teeters.

Zach's palm slaps against his back, hard and heavy and Chris sucks in a sharp breath as he's pushed into the ladder. His face smacks into the rungs, too close to the bottles.

Memories that don't belong here wash through him. Memories, sharp and clear, and he wants no part of them right now. Thumping music, smoke and shadows, a stranger pressing him into the wall while Chris begs to be hit again. _Just once more. Please._

He's not there now. He's on a ladder, in someone else's wine cellar. He can hear his own breathing, can feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears, a thump of no, no, no.

But the hand stays and Zach's voice, low and too hoarse, clears up any doubt, "You okay?"

He's not. Not at all. But all he can manage is a rasp, "Get off me."

Zach pulls his hand away immediately. Chris stares at the bottles of wine, at the pretty colors dull in the light and wishes he had never auditioned for Trek. Or better, wishes he had never gone to that club all those months ago.

But he did. He let the dark-haired stranger play with him, had loved it. He can remember every mark against his skin, every tug at his hair. He regularly gets off to the memories.

And now he has to turn around and look the stranger in the face—and not completely fucking lose his shit.

His face and neck are hot from the dizzying mixture of humiliation and fury. He flexes his fingers on the rungs, trying to at least get the humiliation under control. It's a lost cause. Because there is no sex tape—no threat that Chloe made. And that means that at least two other people know about the club.

Shaking now, and not caring, Chris goes down the ladder, turning as soon as he's on the floor. Zach is standing far back, his arms tight around his torso again. The wary expression immediately switches to disinterest and that makes the fury spike.

"This whole time," he spits. "You've been fucking with me this whole time."

But Zach just looks confused, and maybe it's an act. It's probably an act, but Chris is done with his bullshit.

"I know it was you at that club," he goes on, voice rising with each word. "And you let me think there was something wrong with me. You told J.J. I wasn't good enough, but my shit resume has nothing to do with it, does it?"

Zach can't cover his surprise fast enough, but he tries. "I don't know what—"

"Bullshit. You do know what I'm talking about. Me and you," he emphasizes the words with a jabbing finger back and forth, "at that club four months ago, shoving me against the wall and making me beg you to hit me—" He has to choke that part out, because his throat is burning, and the humiliation is closing in. There's a sick moment of satisfaction though when he sees Zach's ashen face; he's fallen back another step, almost colliding with the wall.

_Good._

"You didn't want me to know, did you?" he mocks. "Is it the sadist you don't want people to know about, or was it just the fact that you're into dick?"

"I…"

"You told Kristen about me, didn't you?" he demands over whatever protest Zach has. "You must have. And Zoe? Did you tell her too? How many other people did you tell?"

Zach shakes his head quickly. He looks like he might throw up. "I didn't tell them about the club," he says quietly. "I didn't," he repeats even though Chris doesn't reply; any words would be incoherent right now. "Not that kind of club."

It's laughable. The whole thing is fucking insane. Zach's more humiliated than he is. "But you did tell them I like to be fucked by guys right?" Chris' voice is shaking, and for a second he's afraid he might cry. He swallows down the feeling. "What the hell is this about? You wanted something to hold over me?" Which makes no sense, and he knows it makes no sense. Nothing makes sense.

"No." Zach steps toward him, and steps right back when Chris goes rigid. He holds up his hands, like he thinks Chris might be scared of him. " _No_. I was afraid that you would… if you found out—"

"That I would tell everyone I knew?" Chris laughs, and it's too high; he feels hysterical. "No, see, that was you. _You_ outted me to all of your friends."

"I freaked out when I saw you at the audition," Zach tries for understanding and gets none. Not a fucking ounce. "No one knows… about me. I swear I didn't tell them about the club—"

"Only because you didn't want them to know that you get off on hurting people."

Zach winces, and Chris feels momentarily guilty. Not guilty enough. "You really are an asshole."

Zach's deflates in front of him, and worse than that, he nods. Because he's the world's best actor. "Yeah, I know," he says quietly, and there's even a tremor in his voice. "I'm sor—"

"No, you know what, Quinto?" Chris cuts him off. "Fuck you."

The door opens then, and Matt steps in to see Chris with clenched fists and Zach cowering in the corner, and that's just great. Just fucking great.

"Are you…" Matt looks between them, uncertain, but he steps closer to Zach. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's amazing," Chris says sarcastically. He doesn't wait around to see Matt's reaction—or Zach's either. In fact, he'll be thrilled if he never has to see Zachary Quinto again.


	10. How are you going to top this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my disappearance. I left home and computer unexpectedly, but I'm home again and I will continue to attempt daily updates.

He does see him again, of course.

Although, he considers telling J.J. over the phone the next day, that no, Zach has _not_ been impressed during their script reading sessions. That Zach is, in fact, a big fat liar who doesn't think they have amazing chemistry and is actually just afraid that Chris will publish a tell-all about his masochistic exploits at secret sex clubs. And by the way, Zach is also gay.

He doesn't do that, though, because he _wouldn't_ do that—not even to assholes. He just agrees with all of J.J.'s various new instructions. Which include a new shooting schedule and an apparently urgent need for him and Zach to be on a plane in two days; because J.J. is still out of town and yet he's impatient for promo stills.

So Chris has two days. Two days to convince himself that this is better. That he's not pissed that Zach told all and sundry that he's not straight. And definitely not mortified that Zach reduced him to babbling pleas for more pain that night at the secret sex club.

At least, that's the plan.

That's not how it works out.

Because he and Zach share the same trainer, and Chris can't afford to miss a session, especially now that principal photography is happening sooner than he thought.

He's never actually seen Zach when he works out, so he's not expecting to.

Which is probably why he jerks back when he nearly collides with him on the way into their trainer's house. Zach's eyes widen, his face coloring bright red, which is… not at all what Chris was expecting.

"Sorry," Zach says, in a voice too high in pitch, and as exactly as mortified as Chris feels. "Sorry, sorry," he repeats, as he ducks his head and quickly side steps. He's gone before Chris can decide how to react.

He spends the next day and a half avoiding phone calls from his sister and Chloe.

Katie eventually shows up at his door. He sighs when she buzzes up and lets her in. She hugs him tightly, even though she can't really know anything since Chloe didn't.

He gets a little tight-throated over it, hugging her back with more force than he means. She gets no information out of him though, because there is no way Chris is telling any of this particular tale, and eventually she gives in to his inability to talk and they spend the day watching favorite movies from their childhood and eating takeout.

"I really hate him," she says as she gets ready to leave. Chris tries to smile, but even her support can't really help here. When she leaves, he stares at nothing for awhile, wishing for the millionth time that he never went to that stupid club.

He sleeps most of the next day away, retreating to ignored phone calls and the bliss that only unconsciousness can bring. Sleep via an inability to face reality, however, is rarely helpful. Especially when he has to be organized—and awake—enough to catch a red-eye flight.

Which is why he's currently sitting in a plane, trying to find his earbuds. "Damn it," he mutters to himself.

There's a movement to his left, and Chris looks up. Zach is standing awkwardly in the aisle. "Hey," he says, eyes darting back and forth from the window to the back of the seats ahead.

Chris' first instinct is to ignore him, but the fact is: J.J. wants Zach. And despite his original apology—and the lies to J.J.—there is no way Chris is taking a chance that Zach will try to get him fired.

It might be better for the instant ache that blooms in his chest—the one that has been lying dormant for two days. The one he's decided to ignore.

But he can't ignore _Zach_ for the next six months. So he grunts, "Hey," and continues searching for his earbuds. Zach doesn't move though, and after a second Chris realizes it's because he needs to get to the window seat. "Sorry," he mutters before he can stop himself, already squishing his knees out of the way.

"No, it's my fault," Zach mumbles back, and is that ever the truth. "Thanks…"

Chris doesn't exactly mean to ogle his ass, but it's right in front of his face. And seriously, why does he have such a great ass? He turns his head as soon as Zach's in his own space though, and hopes the flame on his cheeks isn't too noticeable. He can feel him settling in, and tries to keep his elbows tucked in tight so there won't be any accidental knocking.

It's almost impossible to look for his earbuds like that, so he fiddles with his phone, with the music app that he can't use, hoping the flight attendant will stop talking to the guy in front of them so he can ask for headphones.

But it's Zach who offers his. The white cords dangle from his fingers—fingers that Chris is not going to imagine pressing into his neck; hard enough that they left bruises for days afterward.

"I have extras," Zach breaks into his thoughts, his voice softer than it needs to be. So hesitant. He's basically unrecognizable from the Zach of three days ago. Nothing like the stranger from the club…

The white wires sway as Zach moves them closer, like an animal taunting its prey. Chris swallows the momentary hysteria the imagery brings and curls his fingers over them. "Thanks," he says gruffly, but he doesn't look up to see how Zach reacts; knows he shouldn't wonder if he rates a smile now, or a nod.

They don't speak for the rest of the flight, except when Zach mumbles an apology when he has to scoot by to get to the bathroom—twice because he's downing water like it's his salvation.

If this is how Zach plans to make things less awkward, there is no way someone won't notice.

Chris tells himself that, tells _himself_ to stop feeling awkward because he is not in the wrong here. But he still fumbles with the earbuds when they land, ends up shoving them somewhere in the vicinity of Zach's hand, making Zach grab them out of the air before they plummet to the floor.

He almost apologizes, but Zach beats him to it.

They both end up apologizing when they reach for their bags at the same time. Zach snatches his hand away, pressing back into his seat so that there won't be any possibility of touching this time, and irritation floods through Chris.

"You're the one who fucked with me, you know," he snaps, finally turning to glare. "You don't have to act like I'm a leper."

It's not possible, but Zach's sunken deeper into the seat. His eyes go round for a second, but he then he shakes his head. "I'm not," he says in a rush. "I just didn't… I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Sorry…"

"Yeah well, too late for that," Chris grumbles. Zach swallows and says nothing. Chris ignores the weight pressing on his chest and grabs his bags. He edges out of the space without another word, intending to go on ahead, but realizes when he's out of the plane that a car will be waiting to pick up both of them.

And friendly co-stars probably walk through airports together.

So he waits. And when Zach emerges, the surprise at finding him there is immediately replaced with a blank expression. Not the haughty, you're beneath me face he wore so well before the truth came out, but Chris thinks he liked that one better.

"Do you have checked bags?" Zach asks, still not quite making eye contact.

"Just these." Chris rolls his shoulders under the weight of his backpack and slings the other bag over his shoulder. "I travel light."

A little nod, and a quiet, "Me too."

Chris is pretty sure he has never felt this uncomfortable around anyone before. Before he can decide if he's obligated to continue the small talk, a security guard asks if they need help. Zach glances at Chris and then thanks the helpful security guard before asking for customs.

"This is your first time in our country?" the cheerful officer asks Chris in careful English.

"First time," Chris says, smile automatic. Zach is having a similar conversation with the next officer, but it sounds less forced.

They make it through quickly, and Zach again is the one who asks for directions. Chris follows along, glad not to have to talk to anyone. They reach the waiting driver, who is indeed expecting them together.

Zach steps back to let Chris go first, still not looking at him. He slides in beside him, keeping close to the door. He's drinking water again, and Chris watches him for a minute, the way his throat undulates as he swallows.

Zach glances at him and Chris quickly looks away. He stares out the window as they pull into traffic, toward Berlin.


	11. All the Homo

The car takes them straight to the studio, which Chris appreciates. There’s no more time for suffocating silences. J.J., and several other Very Important People, greet them, including a pretentious photographer who has a _vision_ for Kirk and Spock; complete with gestures and everything.

They’re whisked away to get dressed—and Chris finds the wardrobe people are less than pleased by the fact that he never reappeared for measurements. It takes time to rip apart seams and adjust.

He reads while he waits, sitting beside Zach in the other makeup chair and studiously doesn’t look up to see the transformation from human to Vulcan. 

“It’s uncanny,” someone says and Chris finally looks up. He can’t help but stare. 

“You look exactly like him,” another artist says—the one carefully adjusting the wig Zach’s wearing. Zach smiles at her. 

It’s true. He looks so much like young Nimoy, it’s hard to believe they’re not related. Even with his normal eyebrows; they'll be airbrushed later.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Chris doesn’t look away immediately. He’s too busy staring at the meticulous fringe, the perfect points of the alien ears. 

He looks amazing.

Chris wonders briefly if it’s weird that he apparently has a thing for elf ears. Or maybe it’s just Zach. 

He can feel his face warming, so he looks away, back down to his book. A therapist, he thinks, would probably have a great time analyzing why he’s attracted to someone who treated him like shit.

-o-

The shoot does not go well.

“You must relax, Zachary,” the photographer says, accent heavy and decidedly French. He runs his hands down Zach’s arms, from shoulders to wrists, a slow caress that Chris doesn’t like at all, and probably shouldn’t explain to the therapist he clearly needs. “This is the wrong method of tension. The viewer knows nothing of animosity between you, yes?”

It’s hard to remember that he’s talking about their characters.

“Yes,” Zach agrees, but he’s still stiff. Chris can practically feel his unease. He can feel it when they’re posed close together, the way Zach pulls away just enough that their bodies don’t touch. 

“You like your captain,” the photographer persuades, still softly as he takes Chris’ shoulder as well, a caress for him this time, and since Chris is watching Zach, he notes the tightening of his lips. He’s almost amused by it. Or he would be if anything between them wouldn’t be the most fucked up thing ever. “Forty-five years we know Kirk and Spock. We must _feel_ your devotion.”

Zach flicks his eyes away from Chris, his jaw tautening and relaxing all at once. The photographer looks pleased; he rubs Zach’s shoulder. 

“We are understanding one another now,” he says, a lilting question behind his teeth. 

“Absolutely,” Zach assures him.

The photographer claps his hands; his version of ecstasy. He pauses to cup Chris’ cheek briefly, a wide smile lighting his face, but then he tuts. “What I would not give for those eyes. To drown in them… Zachary,” he moans, gesturing, “it is his eyes!” He spins away, shouting delighted orders to his crew and Chris wonders where the fuck J.J. found him. He glances at Zach, and finds him looking just as bewildered. But as soon as he notices Chris looking, he straightens his face, relaxing into neutrality. 

The urge to strangle him dies swiftly, mostly because it brings up thoughts of Zach’s fingers clenched around his neck. He’s got a fetish, obviously. Which is not helpful right now.

He wrestles the thoughts away and moves where he’s told—where’s he’s manhandled on more than one occasion. Never by Zach, who, despite the whimsy and cajole, doesn’t relax. It’s like he has no idea what to do with his body. 

Chris is supposed to be defiant and cheeky—the photographers gleeful words—at the camera while Spock crowds behind. No homo, circa Shatner and Nimoy, although Chris is pretty sure this photographer wants all the homo to be on display in these shots.

“You must not be afraid to be close,” he laments, waving his camera for emphasis until Chris is afraid it will go flying across the room. “It is a dance, do you not see this?”

Chris, for his part, doesn’t see it. The photographer apparently doesn’t either. He throws up his hands and calls for a break. His arms are waving in frustration—at J.J., who has been watching from across the room.

Chris wants to stick around to see how that unfolds, but he’s ushered away to reapply makeup and to give his hair a little more impertinence, according to one of the assistants. Chris thinks they’re all nuts.

“I do not know if it will be impertanent enough,” the assistant says seriously, eyeing Chris from behind, and while he’s trying to figure out how to respond to the nonsense, J.J.’s face appears in the mirror.

He doesn’t look happy.

“Uh, hey,” Chris says in greeting, already shifting nervously in his chair and telling himself to stop. J.J.’s reflection frowns at him.

“I’d like to talk to you, Chris.”

“Okay.” Sure, fine, no worries at all. He’s 99% certain he’s about to be fired, but he slides off his chair anyway and follows J.J. to a quiet corner. Zach, he can’t help but notice, is nowhere to be seen. 

J.J. wastes no time. “Zach told me you were having no trouble rehearsing together. He insisted things were great, and told me repeatedly that you were the right person for this part.”

“Oh.” Because Chris is brilliant and it’s never easier to see that when a talented director is about to fire you. 

“But I think you’re misunderstanding what you’re supposed to be doing out there.”

Chris nods mechanically. “Okay.”

J.J. makes an exasperated gesture much like the photographer’s, except there’s a diet coke making a point instead of a camera. “As far as the audience knows—all those goddamn trekkies—Kirk and Spock are best friends. They don’t know anything about the dislike at first sight or Spock exiling him, Kirk goading him—it’s just Kirk and Spock, the captain and his devoted first officer.”

Chris gets that. It’s Zach that seems not to have clued in, so he nods again, “That makes sense.”

J.J. mirrors his nod a little more firmly. “Good. And since we’ve decided to go with the romantic tension between them, you can play that up a little, nothing blatant. But enough—like Shatner and Nimoy played it.”

Chris is staring at him, at the expectant line of his eyebrows and has no idea how to respond. _Romantic tension_.

“It won’t come to anything until the second one,” J.J. goes on, oblivious. “If we get that far. If this thing is as big as we hope it is. A lot of that depends on you and Zach—on the chemistry you create. The chemistry you had during that first scene. So find that again, got it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Chris finally finds his voice. “Got it.”

“Good.” He half turns away and then turns back, holding out a clear plastic DVD case. “Watch this for inspiration, and you’ll see what I mean. _Amok Time_ is the episode you want.”

Numbly, Chris takes the case. 

“We’re breaking for lunch,” J.J. says over his shoulder. “Thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes, Chris thinks, as he stares after him, is not going to be nearly enough time. The way he sees it, he’s got two choices: he can have a nervous breakdown or he can strangle Zach. 

He heads to Zach's dressing room.


	12. Something Like That

"Romantic tension?" Chris demands as soon as the door opens to his knock. Zach blinks at him from behind black-framed glasses. Elf ears and glasses—a lethal combination.

Zach's face pales, just like it did in the wine cellar. It's still not a good look on him. "I'm sorry," he says, the words out before he can really have time to consider them. His new default to anything Chris says; Chris is really starting to hate it.

He scowls. "We need to talk."

Zach swallows, and it's impossible to miss the way his shoulders sort of hunch up close to his pointed ears, but he opens the door wider anyway. Although once it's closed—softly—he stays close to it, ass pressed into the handle.

Chris pretends not to notice he looks like he's poised to bolt and holds up the DVD case. "Did you forget to tell me something?" he asks pointedly, and then realises that J.J. didn't actually say Zach was supposed to have told him. But why else did he just announce that Kirk and Spock are supposed to be seething with sexual tension?

"I don't…" Zach frowns a little, but it's not aimed at Chris really; more like he's frowning at his own confusion. His eyes dart between the case and Chris' face. "What is that?"

Chris lets his arm fall, watching the stark wariness in Zach's face. "Did you know Kirk and Spock are supposed to be reeling with sexual tension?"

Zach's hand rubs against the side of his leg. "J.J. mentioned it, yeah." The words sound like gravel.

"Um, were you supposed to mention it to me? Maybe?"

"Yeah," Zach says quickly, weird and breathless. "I was going to. I _wanted_ to," he amends. "I just didn't know…" He shakes his head, resignation making his face shadowy again. "Sorry."

It's just too much. And seriously, if Zach apologizes again, he might lose it.

"I need to sit down," Chris mumbles, letting himself fall into one of the comfortable armchairs before asking, "Can I sit down?"

Zach just watches him, every muscle in his body tense. Whatever the hell he's waiting for, he expects it to be painful. But Chris is beyond all of that right now. Enough is enough.

"Look," he says, unslumping from his self-pity, and from the chair. He lifts his face, "I get it. You're… embarrassed, right? But if we forget that you outted me, we can take that and…" But he doesn't know where to take it, except he knows he's not really going to forget it. "It's just a thing that happened, right?" he pushes forward anyway. "I mean, sure it's humiliating—" He thinks he didn't mean to put it quite so strongly, except goddamn it, he _is_ humiliated now that other people know; _Zach_ knowing, that doesn't seem like such a big deal, but he has to fucking _work_ with Zoe. "—but we have to put it behind us, because J.J. just told me I don't know what I'm doing and I'm pretty sure if you don't get the fuck over yourself, he's going to fire me."

Zach's arms have formed a protective armor again, and Chris peers at him, trying to figure out if he's only imagining the tremor when he says quietly, "Okay." He nods a little, swallows. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'll get over myself."

Chris ignores the niggle of worry he can feel in his chest. "Okay…"He has nothing else to say except he doubts that very much, so he lifts the DVD case again. "J.J. wants us to watch an episode of the original series. 'Amok Time'."

"Okay," Zach agrees, still quiet, still tense, and then when Chris can't find anything else to say, he adds, "He isn't going to fire you. He thinks you're amazing."

And Chris really has nothing to say to that. "Oh. Well. Um, that's good, I guess?"

Zach looks away after a second, nodding to the wall. After a moment of awkward silence—that's all they seem to have—he says gruffly, "I didn't mean to out you."

Because that helps. Chris shrugs to himself, glances over at the opposite wall. "Yeah, well…"

"I told them you might have seen me… somewhere," he stumbles over the word, "… that you had to realise I'm gay." He blinks at the blank wall, takes in a shaky breath. "I'm pretty sure they assume you're gay too. They won't tell anyone." His throat ripples and he finally turns to look at Chris again. "I'm really sorry. About… all of it. You didn't… you didn't deserve that."

Chris finds it difficult to breathe then, as he listens to the unmistakable tremor. Even though it shouldn't make a difference, his throat aches in sympathy. And he can't help it when he says, "It's okay, man."

Zach drops his eyes, shakes his head a little. "It's not," he disagrees softly before finding Chris' face again. "But… thanks."

Chris finds himself nodding, murmuring something that's meant to be comforting.

"Can we start over?" Zach asks, and it's painfully obvious that he's trying not to sound hopeful or eager. It's all just fucking painful to watch.

"Yeah," Chris agrees without even pausing to consider. "Yeah, of course." He's smiling he realises. Zach's lips lift; not really a smile, but it makes it easier to look at him. Chris holds out a hand. "Friends?"

Zach looks startled, and the resulting handshake is tentative. And over almost before it begins, Zach once more tucking his arms away as he steps back into the door. It's not much. It's hardly anything at all, but it's better than what they started with.

And if it means Chris can keep his job, he'll take it.

He's not thinking about his job though when he leaves Zach in his dressing room, the DVD tucked under an arm with plans to watch it later. He's thinking about Zach. The ache in his throat has yet to subside.


	13. It's not a porno, I swear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yesterday was a busy day, but here's a longer-ish chapter to make up for it. :)

When Zach finally emerges from his dressing room, he looks different. All the tension from before is gone, his muscles loose and his face no longer in shadows. The photographer couldn't possibly be more delighted to see him. He's snapping pictures before Zach's even made it fully into the room.

His smile. That's what makes such a difference.

Chris watches him, along with everyone else. Because he still does that—still lights up the room.

"You are ready," the photographer says happily. He continues snapping away eagerly, gestures for Chris to join them.

It's startling to find Zach's smile directed at him. He's struck by how talented Zach really is. He's doing exactly what Chris told him to do—or at least, he's pretending to. Pretending he's over it.

Pretending so well that Chris hardly recognizes him. His face is relaxed as the photographer guides them close together. No tremble or regret in sight. He slides in close, touching every now and then, and that's almost worse.

It jolts dormant memories and makes him wish for another dark club, the stranger's heat pressed along his back, into his ass. He wonders if Zach feels it too, or if that night was just like any other night, if he goes a lot. Chris just went the once, and vowed never to do it again. It wasn't just the pain he wanted. But the after; the comfort. And that tends to work better with a significant other. And partners willing to play have been few and far between; and never as intense as it was that night with Zach. Never even close.

"It is perfection," the photographer is saying happily as he adjusts them, tells Chris to embrace his whimsy. So Chris crosses his arms, give his best playful smirk, but keeps his eyes defiant—just a little. The photographer is pleased.

He prods Zach forward until his chest brushes Chris' side.

"Dare them to enjoy him," the photographer whispers.

Chris is barely listening to the erotic words. He's concentrating on slowing his heartbeat, keeping his breathing steady. The sounds of the club crowd in, the slow pulse and dark shadows.

Zach's hands striking against flesh, his voice whispering orders in Chris' ear.

He jolts back to reality as someone pats him on the shoulder—the photographer. He's happy and energetic, explaining to both of them what he wants next. Zach is still crowded close, and Chris's heart is still racing.

\---

They didn't settle on a definite plan to watch 'Amok Time'. And Zach, conveniently, had to take a call seconds after the shoot ended. A call which lasted way too long for Chris to casually wait around outside his dressing room.

And this is why Chris is standing in front of the door to Zach's hotel room, screwing up the courage to knock.

This was a lot easier when he was pissed.

Not that he feels good about Zach being an asshole to keep his secrets. And he really doesn't like the fact that Zach knew Chris' identity all along. He feels… _violated_ is not the right word. Used, either. Because that was sort of the point of playing, wasn't?

Being marked up by a guy who refused to let Chris see his face. And at the time he was fine with it. He loved it.

But if he ever goes to a super secret sex club again, he's definitely going to demand to see the dom's face.

And that's a stupid thought, anyway, because he's never going to one again.

Shaking his head to shoo the club and its shadows away, Chris straightens his shoulders and knocks on the door.

He shifts while he waits, and then has to force himself to stop. It takes way too long for Zach to answer the door, but when he does it's yesterday's Zach, nervous and agitated.

He's got a hand clutched to the door like it's the only thing holding him up. He looks amazing though, in glasses again. The pointed ears are gone, wig traded for damp disarray. And he smells amazing.

And soft enough to touch, with his striped sweater, or he would if he weren't holding himself so rigidly.

"Hey," Chris says after he realises that neither one has said a word. He concentrates on Zach's face and holds up the DVD case. "I got the concierge to bring a DVD player to my room, so if you want to watch…"

"Sure," Zach answers, quick nod and guarded tone. "Let me just..." He makes a vague gesture and pulls away from the door, which he keeps propped open with a foot so it won't slam in Chris' face. "Phone," he explains, holding it up when he reappears.

Chris means to give him a friendly smile but it feels like a grimace. He crosses the hall and proceeds to fumble with the key card. Zach stays in his own space and waits without a word. He goes in when Chris opens the door for him, and waits again until Chris waves at the living area. "Do you want something to drink?" he asks, but Zach shakes his head.

"No, thank you," he murmurs.

Well, at least he could win an award for most well-mannered co-star. His mother would be proud, Chris thinks sourly while he goes to find a water for himself. His mouth feels like crusty socks.

Zach is sitting on the very end of the couch when he comes back, posture announcing loudly not to come too close. So Chris doesn't. He puts in the DVD, fiddles with various buttons, swears mostly to himself and finally asks tersely, "Do you know how to work this?"

"I can try," Zach answers immediately and Chris wonders if he wanted to offer. He's certainly out of his seat in record time, although he hesitates when he's close. Chris sighs and shifts out of the way.

Seriously, great acting earlier. He wants to say something obnoxious to that effect, but Zach's got his head down, his face pinched up in concentration as he studies the buttons. He's chewing at his lower lip, and honestly, it's kind of adorable. Chris finds himself smiling, alternating his glance between Zach's mouth and his long fingers as they do the fiddling.

It only takes a few seconds before it works.

"Thanks," Chris says, feeling pretty stupid that it looked so easy.

Zach returns to his place on the couch after a murmured, "No problem."

Chris sits on the other end of the couch, as far away as possible, and tries not to notice how huge it is, while DeForest Kelley's McCoy waylays Shatner's Kirk in the hallway of the _Enterprise_.

It's not the first episode he's seen obviously; not even the first since he decided to audition. But he's definitely paying more attention this time. For one thing, he's not slouched on his own couch with a bowl of chips and a beer. He's almost as rigid as Zach is, but once he realises that, he shakes out the muscles a bit, lets his shoulders dip.

On the screen, Spock throws a bowl of something purple at a bulkhead.

Just as surprised as Kirk appears to be, Chris glances at Zach. He's frowning at the screen, but it's the frown of someone whose interest has been piqued. Chris smiles to himself and goes back to watching.

Watches Kirk trying to weasel information from Spock, Spock's refusal, his cave-in later and begins to understand the bond J.J. is looking for from them. Although for their version of Kirk and Spock it comes later, has to be worked for throughout most of the movie. But the Kirk's willingness to disobey orders is heady stuff—as is Spock's unburdening to no one but his captain.

And yeah, Chris gets why J.J. chose this episode.

He goes for a refill on his water, asking again if Zach wants anything while Kirk, Spock and McCoy transport down to Vulcan. But Zach's eyes are glued to the screen, and he doesn't appear to hear.

Chris watches too, wants to see almost as much as Zach does, the place where Spock was born and raised. They'll get into that a little in the movie so of course Zach's riveted. Chris loves how seriously he takes his character.

He sits down absently, sinking comfortably into the cushion. Zach's still watching the screen intently, leaning forward a little and honestly Chris could content himself with just watching his reaction to his counterpart.

He refocuses on the screen though, surprised by the turn of things. Spock and Kirk to duel for their lives. Well, that could be interesting.

Interesting doesn't even begin to cover it.

Chris watches, his mouth dry and his eyes wide as he Shatner and Nimoy writhe around in the sand. Kirk basically humping Spock, and then Spock wraps the strap thing they're fighting with around Kirk's neck and drags him forcefully up—and fucking _chokes_ him. "Holy shit…" he breathes. His face is hot, and he realizes he's sitting right next to Zach—wonders when the hell that happened.

Their thighs are grazing. He sits up jerkily and Zach finally seems to come back to reality. He looks over, his cheeks a dull shade of pink. Chris stares at him, doesn't mean to stare so long at his lips but Zach's own gaze has shifted—to Chris' neck. His eyes snap up again and he turns his head away, returns his attention to the screen.

But Chris can see the color working its way upward, darkening as Zach swallows. His fingers are clenched white in his laps. Remembering, Chris thinks, what they felt like tight around the back Chris' neck as they held him in place.

Because he's remembering it too.

He folds his hands between his knees, leaning away because Zach already has—to the very edge of the couch again. They watch the rest of the episode in silence. Spock's joy when he finds out Kirk is alive brings tears to Chris' eyes.

"So that's what J.J. wants," he murmurs, smiling despite himself. "Have to say though," he says as he watches the credits, "wasn't expecting the other stuff."

The kinky stuff.

"Leonard mentioned something like this," Zach says, and Chris looks over at him with surprise.

"He did?"

Zach shrugs; his fingers are still tangled in his lap so it makes for an awkward sort of shrug. "A little yeah. Shatner talks about it all the time. Roddenberry did too, their connection, deep love between them…"

"Oh." Chris rubs at his knees. "You… really did your research, didn't you?"

Another self-deprecating shrug. "It's an iconic role. It's…"

"Intimidating…"

"Yeah." Zach's soft smile is the first genuine one he's directed at Chris. But when he smiles back, Zach's eyes drop, the smile fading. "I should go. Early flight tomorrow."

It's not that early. But still, Chris probably shouldn't press it. He does anyway. "You didn't want to… read lines or something?"

"Oh."

"Or we could go out somewhere. I mean, we're in _Berlin_."

"Yeah," Zach agrees, but clearly going out with Chris is not in his plans. So it's completely surprising when he says, "Sure, we can." He unsticks his fingers and rubs his legs. "Do that if you want."

"Yeah?"

Finally looking up again, Zach smiles briefly—another one that's not quite easy. "I'll get my coat."

Chris thinks maybe he should tell him it's fine, they don't have to go out. It might even be good to have some self respect, although too late there since he's the one who offered friendship when scorn might have been more appropriate. Or at least distance. But he finds himself agreeing, "OK. Meet you in the hall in five?"

Zach nods, and when he reaches the door, he pauses, hand on the knob. Without looking back, he says quietly, "You shouldn't be so nice to me." He's gone before Chris can summon a reply. It doesn't matter though; he has no idea what to say to that.


	14. Berlin

Zach is bundled up in coat, wool hat and thick gloves by the time Chris gets out to the hall. Zach eyes him, and his lack of winter gear for a second and says, "I have extra stuff."

"Um…"

"It'll be cold out."

It wasn't that bad this morning, but Chris is used to California weather, so he nods. "Thanks."

Zach ducks back inside his room, reappears with grey wool and leather gloves, all of which Chris takes with a murmur of thanks, and once they're outside, he's doubly grateful. "Fuck, it's cold," he mutters, pulling the hat down over his ears. He glances over at Zach, but he doesn't seem to mind it too much. "You're from Pittsburgh, right? Is it this cold there?"

"Colder," Zach answers in the same quiet tone he's been using all day. "Sharper."

"I bet you have lots of snow," Chris says with interest. He loves snow.

"Yeah." Zach smiles, like he's remembered something happy and even though it's aimed at the sidewalk, Chris feels like he's been let in a little.

"I've only seen it a couple of times. Ski trips with my family," he explains. "It was always a blast making snow angels with Katie. My sister. Well. It was fun until she buried me in it. Then it sucked."

Another quick smile, but Zach ducks his head quickly so Chris doesn't have time to enjoy it. "Yeah, she thought it was hilarious too," he says anyway. "You two would get along great."

But actually, no, they probably wouldn't because Katie doesn't like the things she knows about Zach. Chris reroutes the conversation. "What about you?" he asks, pausing a second to blow warm air in his gloves. His nose is ice. "You like to ski?"

"I've never tried it," Zach's breath makes puffs with each word.

"Oh." Chris racks his brain for something to say to keep this conversation going. "That was a weird shoot, right?" he asks on impulse. "It wasn't just me?"

Zach tenses beside him, and that really wasn't Chris' aim. "It seemed to be what J.J. wanted," Zach says after a minute, not quite defensive although Chris doesn't understand it.

"I guess, yeah," he says anyway. "He looked happy with it. The photographer though… wow."

"He was a little… intense."

Chris smiles at the understatement. "He was farcical. I'm surprised he didn't ask us to start making out right there—" _Shit_. "Um, I mean…" But he can't salvage it and he's not really surprised when Zach stops walking. He stops too. There's quite a bit of space between them on the sidewalk but it doesn't seem like enough. Not with Zach staring at him, his eyes bright in the moonlight. "I just meant," Chris begins when he can find his voice.

"I can't do this, okay?" Zach cuts through his words, and it's a fucking lucky thing they're alone, and it's dark because he sounds panicked. Seriously, Chris wouldn't be surprised if he started running off down the sidewalk. "I'm sorry, but I feel awful about all of this, and I know it's not your fault, but I can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"You don't have to," Chris tells him, even though that's exactly what he's been trying to do. He doesn't know where half his words come from when Zach's involved. "I mean I don't regret it. I just wish…" How to put this? "I just wish you had told me." It's not exactly what he wishes.

"How could I?" Zach asks. "How could I tell you that I roughed you up in a random club and just…" He shakes his head. "I couldn't."

"OK, yeah," Chris agrees, absolutely not focusing on the roughing up part, "that would be weird. Then I just wish you hadn't told Zoe and Kristin. That's what's embarrassing—"

"I didn't tell them about the club, Chris, I swear to you. I _wouldn't_."

"OK." Another agreement because it's not like he has proof either way except that Zach would be incriminating himself.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about anything," Zach goes on, and he sounds upset. "You shouldn't have to be." He catches his bottom lip for second, worrying it. "I'm so sorry."

"I know. And I accepted your apology already—"

"And that's ridiculous," Zach erupts. "We had sex—"

" _Shh_ ," Chris hisses, just as loudly even as his eyes dart around the relatively empty street. " _Jesus…_ "

Zach's lips press together and then he exhales loudly. "Sorry," he says, at a much lower volume and no longer in a tone that says I'd like to throttle you non-consensually. His next breath is shaky. "It's just that I don't… I don't ever…" His eyes are helpless and it's obvious that whatever he wants to say isn't going to come out.

It's an impulse more than anything that makes Chris reach out and grip his bicep. Zach blinks, distressed morse, but Chris squeezes lightly.

"It's okay, you know," he says and is surprised that he means it. "It really is." The distress hasn't left Zach's eyes, but he's not pulling away either.

"Are _you_ okay though?" Zach asks, and it's not at all what Chris was expecting. And yet, some of the tension he's been carrying since the wine cellar begins to fade from his muscles.

"Yeah," he answers quietly. Zach stares at him for a few seconds longer, but when he nods, the distress isn't so sharp.

Another shaky breath released. "Good."

Chris has no idea how long they've been standing there, but he's suddenly very cold. He releases Zach's arm and hugs his middle tightly. "You know we never even said where we're going."

"Oh. Well." Zach shakes his arms, then mimics Chris' pose for a second before unfolding and stuffing his gloved hands in his coat pockets. "The photographer… … Thomas… he suggested a restaurant. It's supposed to have a great view of the cathedral."

"OK. You know the way?"

"I think so. I'm pretty good with maps. I used to study them voraciously when I was a kid."

"A geography nerd?" Chris asks, and then wonders if it's too soon to tease.

But the elusive smile appears for a second. "I won a geography bee once."

Chris grins. "So an actual nerd then."

Zach nods, dipping his chin again. "Pretty much." He looks up without lifting his head and it's not something that should make Chris' dick twitch, but it does anyway. He ignores it.

"Lead the way then," he says, gesturing to the cityscape beyond the sidewalk. Zach turns, waiting for Chris to fall in step beside him.


	15. Before the Storm

"What would make this less awkward?" Chris asks while Zach systematically decimates his bread.

Zach's fingers stop their busy work, but he doesn't seem to have an answer.

"Do you want to talk about it, or…" Clearly not, judging by the way Zach's eyes widen in alarm. "Well, it's hasn't exactly been working to ignore it," Chris says reasonably. "Do you go to clubs a lot?"

Zach looks around them, not very subtly. "We probably shouldn't talk about this here," he says at half volume, more hiss than words.

"We're alone," Chris points out. "No one's paying attention to us."

"I don't think—"

"You said you couldn't pretend it didn't happen, so—"

Zach cuts in roughly, "I don't want to talk about it, ok?"

Blinking at the harsh tone, and feeling like they've stepped back in time about a week, Chris pulls back. "OK." He concentrates on his bread. "Sorry."

"No, it's my fault," Zach says, an echo of an earlier conversation, and Chris is tired of all of it. "I didn't mean to…"

Chris sighs, brings his head back up but the server interrupts them, and it takes some careful fumbling for them to order their food. But the server is patient—and used to Americans—so they don't make complete asses of themselves.

When he leaves, Zach has finally stopped mutilating his bread, but his hands are restless on the tablecloth. "You should be able to talk about it," he says when there's no chance the server can overhear. "If you need to."

Chris looks over the quiet restaurant, and says dismissively, "It's fine—"

"But it was your first time at a club, and I—"

Chris turns his head sharply. "How did you know that?"

Zach frowns. "You… you told me," he answers, fresh worry scrunching his eyebrows and Chris wonders fleetingly what he might be like in normal circumstances—when he's unfettered by all this, and happy. Like he was with Zoe. "That night," he goes on haltingly. "I asked you…"

"If it was my first time," Chris fills in, because he remembers Zach's voice at his ear, clear even amongst the pulsing music vibrating the darkness. _Not as a sub_ , he answered. And he stuttered a little, as Zach's fingers trailed up his arm. _Here… first time at a place like this…_

And the stranger's pleased reply, breath ghosting over Chris' jaw, _Good._

He realises he's staring at Zach's mouth, that he just licked his own lips. He immediately wants to look away because heat is flooding his cheeks, but fuck it. If they're not pretending it didn't happen… It _did_ happen, and he's not embarrassed that Zach knows what he likes. He never has been, not when he finds someone else like him.

With Chloe… and most of his other friends, it's different.

"I'm not upset about it," he says finally. "Like I said, I don't regret it. It was fun." It was hot is the truth of it, but he doesn't think that really needs clarification. Zach's face is rapidly closing off, and Chris finds his stomach clenching. "Um… did you not… Enjoy it?"

Zach doesn't seem to feel the same way about people knowing about his sexual preferences. Or probably it's just Chris. His cheeks burn dark beneath the stubble that's starting to shadow his face. He looks away as he mumbles, "No, I did. You were…" His jaw clenches briefly before he turns back. "You were great," he says and just for a second, he's Zach—the Zach that Zoe and Kristen get to have.

Chris feels a flash of pride at that, which is too confusing to consider. Too difficult to separate the Zach sitting across from him and the stranger complimenting him for staying still.

He's saved from having to find an appropriate reply by the server setting their plates down with a flourish. They both murmur, "Danke," with varying degrees of success and he leaves them to it.

Chris surreptitiously watches Zach unfold his napkin, waiting with his own set of good manners and takes his first bite when Zach has fork in hand.

They concentrate on their food for awhile, eating mouthfuls that are probably delicious but he can't taste anything. Giving up, he sets his fork across the top of his plate. "Okay, you were right," he says, smiling a little when Zach lifts his head. "Talking about it was a bad idea."

Zach grimaces and puts his fork down too, but Chris doesn't let him say whatever he's going to say. "Maybe it would be better if I just took a different job. There's this one, Joe Carnahan is directing. I was considering it anyway—"

"Are you _insane_?" It's the most genuine thing Zach has ever said to him—well, except for all the dom stuff that night in the club. "You thought about giving up Trek for that?"

"Um… well. Yeah," Chris says, feeling newly defensive in the face of Zach's goggling. "He's a good director—"

"Star Trek is going to be huge," Zach protests.

"I know. I didn't say yes." He has no idea why he's so testy about it, but his tone seems to quell Zach's outrage.

"Yeah," he agrees. He picks up his fork, but doesn't take any food. "But you still can?"

Chris narrows his eyes. "Do you want me to?"

" _No_." A little explosive breath. "Look, you can do what you want, but it would be stupid."

Chris stares at him. "Is this whole mercurial thing just for me?" he finally asks, but Zach just looks confused; Chris waves it off. "Never mind. I promised my dad I wouldn't quit anyway, so just don't worry about it."

The confusion settles somewhere else but the expression is impossible to interpret so Chris doesn't even try.

"What about your parents?" Chris asks. He goes back to his chicken. "Excited about Trek?"

Zach is turning leaves over with his fork. "My mom is, yeah."

"What about your dad?"

Leaf after leaf, and maybe he's trying to hit every one. "He died when I was a kid."

Chris stops chewing.

Zach smiles briefly and stops turning over greenery, stabs one through and pushes it into his mouth.

Chris feels so stupid, he can't conjure up a response and when he does it's the obligatory, "I'm sorry…"

But Zach shrugs and finishes swallowing. "It was a long time ago."

But his nonchalance is telling, and Chris remembers his flip comment about fatherless kids not all having daddy issues and feels even stupider.

"It's okay," Zach tells him, smiling in the comforting sort of way that Chris should be offering to him. "I don't remember him very well."

"Still though," Chris says, wanting to do something. "That must have been hard."

Zach nods, but in that vague way that signals he's done with the topic, and if that's the only way Chris can help, he'll oblige. "Cho told me about this great bar when he found out we were coming to Berlin," he says, and reapplies himself to his food. "He swears it's a must-see. Want to check it out?"

Zach agrees with only a tiny hesitation, but that feels like such progress, Chris actually enjoys the rest of his chicken.


	16. All Liquored Up and Nowhere to Go

"Um…" Chris glances over at Zach, and back again at the room packed with couples, bodies swaying in time to the music. Definitely not a bar. "Cho was here a few years ago… I guess they changed it?"

"Yep." Zach has that tense look again, taut around the mouth and jaw.

"Do you want to go?" Chris asks, and almost sighs at the obvious relief in the dark eyes. He turns back toward the door.

"We can stay."

Chris turns back, surprised. But he just wants to make things easy. "We don't have to."

"No, we can. I want to."

Studying him with narrowed eyes briefly, Chris gives in. _Want_ is a big overstatement but he's not going to stand here and argue about it in the middle of the thumping music—which thankfully is nothing like the dark pulse in the place they're not talking about.

It's not a gay club, but it's also pretty clear that anything goes. And, he and Zach are overdressed.

"Should we get a table?" Chris asks, having to amp up the volume with the swell of music as they move inward. Zach simply nods and waits for Chris to lead the way; which he does.

He winds through the bodies, snaking carefully and apologizing when he brushes too close to a woman who doesn't seem to mind. She smiles, the invitation clear in her eyes, but then she glances behind Chris—right about where Zach should be. Her eyebrows rise before she moves back to her own group.

Chris doesn't mind the assumption that they're together, but Zach probably does. It's impossible to give any other impression when they find a intimate table, but Chris makes sure to stay on his own side as he wrestles with his coat. If it was anyone else, he would just offer to get the drinks but that wouldn't help with assumptions.

Before he can do more than look around for the bar, Zach says, "I'll get the drinks. What do you want?"

"Oh. Um… you sure? Because I could—"

"You can get the next ones." He's impatient now and geez, the guy is really blowing hot and cold tonight.

"OK. Beer? Whatever they have—"

Zach's gone before he can even finish. Chris watches him, trying to decide if he should even bother trying to figure out the problem now. Probably not, but at least he gets to appreciate the view. For a minute, before Zach's swallowed up by the crowd.

He taps his thumbs against the table while he waits, idly people-watching, without much interest in joining in. He doesn't go dancing much—except when he's dragged by various friends, which happens too often.

"You want to dance?"

Chris looks up at the unfamiliar, accented voice, to find a guy with huge muscles and a grinning face. "Oh. Um.."

Zach reappears then, and the guy glances at him.

"Oh, sorry," he says quickly. "You are with someone."

"He's not," Zach says before the Gaston-lookalike can move away. He sets the beers on the table. "Go ahead, Chris." His voice is perfectly genial, a mimic of the part he played at the shoot—after Chris yelled at him.

"No, that's all right," Chris says apologetically to the guy—who is leering with renewed interest. "Thanks though."

"You should go," Zach interjects, settling himself in the chair opposite and offering the giant a smile. "He just doesn't want be rude." Back to Chris and yeah, he hates Zach's fake smile. "But seriously, Chris, I'm good. Go ahead."

Chris shakes his head, and reiterates the same to the giant.

"You should go," Zach insists. To the other guy, "He wants to."

Chris' smile tightens, but the guy takes the hint and holds up his hands. He's smiling in amusement as he backs away. Chris turns on Zach.

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

How he can pull out that surprised face when he has to know that was not okay, Chris has no idea but it pisses him off.

"I was just," Zach starts to say.

"He wants to?" Chris mimics. "You're not my… " He can't think of a good substitute for pimp, which was the first word that came to mind, and that probably wouldn't work out well. "I said I didn't want to," he says instead. " _Jeez_." He downs half his beer and thumps it again on the table, glaring at the crowd instead of Zach.

"I didn't want you to feel like you had to sit with me," Zach eventually says quietly. He's spinning the bottle by its neck; round and round.

"I came with you," Chris points out, snappish. It's probably overkill, but he's not sure he cares.

"OK," Zach agrees almost too quietly to be heard above the music. "Sorry."

Chris is not really looking at him, but he watches the bottle disappear from the table and when it comes back down a minute later, it's empty. Zach pushes up. "Want another one?"

Chris looks up then, gives his own beer a pointed little shake. Zach turns around without a word and is gone to the crowd again.

Whatever Zach's problem is, it's something new. Although maybe Chris was right in the first place, and he just has a mood disorder.

Which is a non-starter as far as conversations go, so maybe he'll ask him to dance instead. He knows Zach likes to dance, reported by Zoe that day they read the script together.

But Zach doesn't come back right away.

Chris eventually spots him, talking to a blond guy at the bar. Not talking, but leaning into the other guy's space. Well actually, no, the guy is leaning at Zach, but Zach isn't protesting.

He's smiling at whatever the guy is saying close to his ear. Nodding.

Chris drops his eyes. Well, all right. Zach _did_ want him to go with the beefcake. Makes more sense now. He twists the beer between thumb and first finger and looks up again.

Zach is setting an empty shot glass on the bar, and then with eyebrows raised pointedly, he moves out onto the dance floor. The blond follows.

Chris watches as they move together on the dance floor, but mostly he's watching Zach's hips, hypnotized, the way they press against the other guy's ass. Just like he did to Chris' that night.

Rocking into him, fingernails digging into his neck as Chris gasped, his own body jolting. The stranger's palm cracking against his thigh, dark voice, ordering, "I said, don't _move_."

Chris didn't move again.

He swallows hard now, pushing the memories away and dropping his eyes again. When he looks up, he can't see Zach anymore.

He stares, unseeing, at the crowd of people, but makes no move to join them. He turns down two more offers and sullenly finishes his beer. He makes his way to the bar for another, eyes roaming, but he doesn't see Zach.

It's stupid. Ridiculous. He doesn't care who Zach dances with. But they came together, didn't they? And Zach just went off. After Chris turned down that guy. What an asshole.

A girl at the bar offers him a shot, and what the hell? He downs it. "Dance?" she asks, close to his face, and he might have agreed just to have something to do. But he sees Zach then, with some other guy—christ, how many dicks does the guy need?

He turns away, jaw aching, about to say yes, he would fucking _love_ to dance, but she's moved on to someone else. Scowling, Chris orders another beer and goes back to his table.

He's not watching for Zach, but there he is again; with another one. Fuck this. He's not going to just sit here while Zach grinds against every guy he sees. He shoves the unfinished beer away and stands, yanking his coat with him and tripping over his own feet.

He makes his way out of the crush of bodies, and it's a little more difficult than when he came in—stupid people and their dancing.

The walk to the hotel is bitter cold and he wishes he had someone else's hat, but he shoves Zach's on anyway and thinks about what a jerk Zach is.

Thankfully the hotel isn't far and he makes it back without freezing his balls off. Once he's fumbled with the key, he throws the hat on the table and kicks off his shoes.

The _Amok Time_ credits are still frozen on his tv.

He switches it off with a stab at the remote and then proceeds to click through endless German television, his buzz kicking in but making him feel anything but pleasant.

At some point, when he's dozing, his text alert goes off. He shakes himself awake and unenthusiastically maneuvers his phone from his pocket. He has to squint at it to make his brain understand it's from Zach: **Where are you?**

He doesn't feel like answering, but of course he does. Zach's a siren and death is inevitable. **Hotel.**

He tosses the phone away, figuring that's the end of it. Zach can go fuck whoever the hell he's dancing with now that he doesn't have to worry that Chris is lurking.

But another text immediately comes in, and vaguely annoyed now, Chris grabs his phone.

**Are you ok?**

**Fine** , he types back curtly and then stares at the screen until he realises he's doing it and flicks his phone off, drops it on the couch and glares at the television screen. Fuck Zach anyway.

He's in no mood to answer the phone when it rings a few minutes later. He blinks in surprise to see Zach's name on the screen, and so he answers before he really thinks about it, "Hello?"

"You _left_?" There's the rustle of street noise, a car honking, but it can't muffle the irritation in Zach's voice; it reignites Chris' anger.

"So?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Zach demands, slightly breathless like he's been running. "I've been looking for you for twenty minutes. I thought you were off dancing."

"No, that was you, Zach."

"Because I couldn't find you—"

"Oh, bullshit, you went off with the first dick you saw."

"What?"

"That blond guy," Chris reminds him bitterly. "At the bar. That was five minutes after we got there."

"He asked me—"

"Whatever, Zach, I don't care."

"Then why the hell are you yelling at me?" But it's Zach who's yelling. Hiss-yelling anyway.

"Because you left me at the table like an asshole. After I turned that guy down—"

"I didn't ask you to do that!"

"No, you just tried to shove me at him. I'm not some fucking prostitute you can—"

"Jesus Christ," Zach explodes. "Everything I say isn't some reference to dominating you."

"Fuck you."

There's a long stretch of silence during which Chris begins to think he's the one being the asshole. But then Zach's says tiredly, "God, I wish I never went to that stupid club."

And that stings, like a punch to Chris' chest. "Yeah, well," he mutters, "I could have done without meeting you too."

He's ready for the next retort, but it doesn't come. Zach hangs up.

Chris stares at his phone, his chest tight, and wishes instead that he hadn't said that.


	17. It's an Oxymoron

He wants to call Zach back. A little too late, the realisation that he wasn't saying he would have been better off never meeting Chris.

Meeting was always inevitable.

Super secret sex clubs, not so much.

Chris bumps the back of his skull repeatedly against the couch. All of this would have been better without that stupid club; just like Zach said. And Chris had to go and take it one step too far.

He bounces his head, muttering, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

But come on, it's not like all of this isn't Zach's fault. Well. The leaving the club part wasn't exactly his fault. Maybe. Although going off and trying to fuck every other guy in the club... _that's_ Zach's fault. And it's not like Chris wouldn't have danced with him if Zach asked. He would have been perfectly _happy_ to dance with him, and instead Zach just left him there—

Startled, Chris breathes in sharply.

He's _jealous_. He's fucking jealous of all those guys, his mind spinning ever spiteful vitriol for three guys he doesn't know. Inventing dozens more that Zach could have theoretically danced with. And hating every single one of them.

He has feelings for Zach. He has fucking feelings. For Zach.

"Fu-uuuuck."

He closes his eyes for a second, hating the twisty feeling in his gut but knowing exactly what it means. And if everything hadn't been so complicated he would have recognised it sooner. Or maybe it's because it's so complicated that he feels this way in the first place. It's not normal to have feelings for assholes, right?

It's like some version of Stockholm syndrome. Falling in love with your tormentor.

But Zach's not really his tormentor. And he's not really an asshole. He just… has issues.

Chris is not exactly sure what those issues are, but Zach didn't deserve to be told it would have been better if they had never met. And Chris shouldn't have left him at the club. Even without all the bullshit, there's a code for things like that and Chris fucked it up.

He sighs, lifting his head finally and blinking blearily at the dark room, wondering why he didn't turn on more lights when he first came in.

He gets up, wishing he hadn't started that second beer, but probably the queasiness has little to do with alcohol. He ignores it and finds Zach's number in his contacts.

It goes to voice mail after one ring.

Call declined, then. And yeah, he deserves that.

Anyway, Zach probably went back into the club. Why would he not, when there were so many hot guys to choose from?

Thinking about Zach sleeping with someone else… not a great idea. Sleep is probably the best option at this point, but he's not tired—it's only afternoon in California.

He paces for a few minutes, considers calling his sister; or his friend Henry, the guy who introduced him to secret sex clubs—and to everything kink in the first place—but figures it would be difficult to talk about all of this without outting Zach.

So he gives up and slumps back on the couch to listen to people speaking a language he doesn't understand on the tv. Knowing it's pathetic and not very likely to be fruitful, he keeps an ear out for Zach in the hall. He falls asleep before he hears anything.

-o-

He jerks awake at some point, fumbles blearily for his phone and finds it's 3 o'clock. His mouth taste like ass. Rubbing at his face as he sits up, it takes him awhile to remember he's in Berlin.

In Berlin, sleeping on the couch like an idiot because he was waiting for Zach to come back to the hotel.

Which, ha, fat chance of that.

He sighs, sitting up, wide awake and thoroughly regretting each one of his life choices.

A shower sounds good, even though he knows he should try to go back to sleep. But he's keyed up, restless and a shower won't help with that. Not this kind of restless, anyway.

He thinks he remembers the concierge mentioning the gym is always open, though. So, he strips out of his clothes, finds shorts and his favorite white tank; and goes in search of the gym.

Even without earbuds.

Thankfully, though, everyone else in the hotel is apparently sane and sleeping instead of exercising in the middle of the night, so he picks the best treadmill and cranks up the volume on his iphone.

And this is exactly what he needs, working up a sweat to Daft Punk. He gets in a good twenty minutes before the door opens behind him. Disappointed that he'll have to cut off his music, he turns to make sure it's not just staff.

It's Zach.

Startled, Chris misses a step and ends up in a bruised heap on the floor.

It hurts like hell, but he's mostly preoccupied hoping that Zach was a figment of his imagination. He wasn't.

He's standing over him, looking down with something that might be construed as concern. Maybe. If Chris hadn't listened to Zach hang up on him a few hours ago.

But Zach says anyway, frowning, "Are you okay?"

Chris grunts in response, and as soon as he moves to push himself up, Zach offers a hand. Ignoring the rush of guilt—and the swarming butterflies, which he finally understands—Chris takes it and is carefully brought to his feet.

"Thanks," he mumbles; he's disappointed when Zach releases him. He rubs a hand over his ass, where there will no doubt be a lovely bruise by morning. But at least he didn't break anything.

"You should probably get some ice," Zach says neutrally—a step back, but it's not like Chris can blame him this time.

"Yeah." He rubs at his neck as Zach reaches over the turn off the machine and tries not to think too hard about how good he looks in the sloppy tank he's wearing. "You uh… couldn't sleep either?"

"It's dinner time in Silver Lake."

He doesn't seem drunk; or like he's just been fucking someone, but Chris isn't going to ask. And it isn't like he actually knows what Zach looks like after a good hard fuck.

"So…" Chris struggles to find something to say, but it's more difficult because he feels like a jerk. Because the chill from Zach is deserved. "Did you enjoy the rest of your night?"

"Not really."

"Oh." They spend a moment not looking directly at each other. "I should have told you I was leaving," is all Chris can think to say.

"Doesn't matter."

It's amazing how poorly he lies. "I didn't mean to make you leave too."

"I wasn't in the mood anyway. Seriously, Chris," Zach says, smiling reflexively, "it's fine."

Chris nods, even though he knows it's not. And because he would be a hyprocrite otherwise, he adds, "I'm sorry I said that. About wishing we hadn't met. I didn't… I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, well," Zach says, shoulders lifting and dropping as he squints at the quiet treadmill, "it's not like I didn't deserve it."

"You didn't."

Zach just shrugs again, and Chris frowns.

"I shouldn't have hung up on you," Zach says after a shift of silence. "I overreacted."

Probably, but Chris can't not explain. "I took what you said the wrong way. But you were right. It would have been better if we hadn't met that way."

"Yeah."

Chris has no idea how to help him; doesn't even really understand what's wrong. "Zach," he says quietly, almost reaching out to touch his arm again, but he stops himself this time, "if you want to talk… I mean, about anything. If I can help…"

Help what, he doesn't know. It seems like Zach feels guilty, which he absolutely shouldn't.

"It was all consensual," he tries again, keeping his voice quiet, just in case. But when Zach turns to look at him, his stomach clenches. He's smiling a little, but Chris can see that his eyes are too bright.

"I know it was," he says though, like it's not even an issue. Chris wants to pursue it, but Zach adds, "I was going to run for awhile…"

"Oh." Yet another thing that he doesn't want to talk about; Chris doesn't want to accept that, but since it's not his choice, he says, "I was just finishing, so…"

"You don't have to leave."

"No, it's all right." Chris' skin feels hot, his stomach dancing with renewed butterflies. Telltale signs that he should have recognized weeks ago. His tongue is uncooperative but he manages, "I should get that shower."

"OK." Zach's fiddling with his earbuds, untangling them with fingers that don't seem to want to cooperate. He looks ridiculously vulnerable, which is stupid. They're just earbuds.

"Here," Chris says, "I can…"

But Zach pulls the knot free.

Feeling stupid, Chris smiles to cover his nerves. "See you in a few hours." For a plane trip over the Atlantic, which hopefully won't be spent in uncomfortable silence.

Zach's already putting in the earbuds, but at least he offers a small smile. "Later."

With nothing left to do, Chris goes back to his room.


	18. To Dwell on Dreams

Chris is in his room, on the way to the shower and with his shirt already peeled off, when someone knocks on the door. Confused, Chris goes back to the living room, peers out the little privacy window and his stomach immediately does that little flippy thing. He gives himself a second to take a calming breath and opens the door with a smile he hopes is welcoming instead of nervous. "Hey."

Zach's response falters as he takes in Chris' bare chest. The butterflies have a resurgence, but there's no embarrassment at the attention, not when he can see that Zach likes what he sees; or maybe he's remembering the night at the club. That's perfectly fine too.

When he finds Chris' face again, he swallows; licks his lips. "You, uh… forgot your phone." He offers it, and Chris grimaces, the anticipation fizzling.

"Sorry," he mutters, taking it and folding it into his palm, against his stomach; Zach's gaze follows briefly before flicking back to his face and maybe Chris' feelings aren't so crazy, after all.

Clearly Zach is attracted to him. The _actual_ him, not just the anonymous sub he enjoyed that night in the club. Sex, he thinks, is pretty far off the table at this point. But maybe it doesn't have to be forever. He's surprised at how much he likes the thought of that.

Another round of sex might even help Zach get over whatever guilty feelings he's dealing with, which Chris is pretty sure must just be overlap from all the other stuff. He knows it wasn't Zach's first time at that club, so why else would he feel guilty?

Chris will just have to reassure him again; if it ever happens. And this time, he's going to be sure kissing is involved. None of this face to the wall and don't turn around stuff—at least… not until after the kissing.

He likes Zach's lips, has ever since they met at the audition; liked them even when Zach was being a jerk. Chris isn't sure what that says about him, but he doesn't care much at this point. Because even without sex and kisses, he doesn't want Zach to go back downstairs. With that in mind, he asks, "Do you want to come in for awhile? We could watch another episode."

Zach looks surprised at the invitation. "Um… don't you want to sleep?"

"Don't think I can."

"Oh." He glances at Chris' chest again, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and Chris wonders if he even realises he's doing it.

"You can exercise tomorrow," Chris suggests. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can watch the evil Spock one. It's on the disk."

The protest is still forthcoming; Chris can see it in the dark eyes. "He has a goatee," he tries. "How can you say no to Spock with a goatee?"

Zach's smiles a little. "Let me just change," he says. "Give me ten."

\---

Chris answers his knock eight minutes later, out of breath and still dripping from the fastest shower ever. "Sorry," he pants as he pulls open the door. "Were you waiting long?"

Zach shakes his head. He doesn't mention the shower, and Chris doesn't mention how good he looks in the new sweater—grey this time, and seriously, he just wants to run his hands over it; and possibly the warm skin beneath it. Definitely the skin beneath it.

"Come on in," he says, making sure to keep his attention on Zach's face. He hopes he hasn't been straying all this time, but he's not sure it matters. Zach can't be a stranger to ogling; he must know how hot he is.

They sit on opposite ends of the couch again, but Chris thinks it's probably better. He feels restless, excited; just like the beginning of every new relationship he's ever had. Problem is he's not in a relationship with Zach.

Doesn't matter, he tells himself. Zach's here and they're… well, by a very loose definition anyway, they're friends. That's good enough for now.

"Chris?"

Fuck. He focuses. He hasn't even turned on the TV. "Um… do you see the remote?"

It's on the couch between them.

"Are you okay?" Zach asks while Chris fumbles with it. "If you're tired—"

"I'm not," Chris assures him. Smitten with you, check. Infatuated, turned on; those might be more accurate descriptors. Either way, he's not tired. He finally gets the episode started, and if he yawns once or twice, he's not admitting to exhaustion. It's not even late in L.A. yet.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but somewhere around Spock's veiled threat of bodily harm and the besotted expression on Kirk's face that follows, he starts to drift.

And dreams of the club. But he's watching instead of participating; as Zach presses faceless men into the wall instead of him. Grinding into them until they come, their heads thrown back, Zach's teeth denting their carotids. Still watching, helpless to do anything but stand there, as Zach turns his head and grins when their eyes meet.

He wakes up to the shrill wail of his alarm.

Blinking groggily at the ceiling, Chris slaps at his phone, which is settled precariously on the arm of the couch. It falls to the floor with a thud and then he has to make the attempt twice before he can turn it off.

In the sudden, disorienting silence he takes stock. Of the black television screen, the sunlight seeping in through the edges of the curtains. He's still curled into the corner of the couch; with a blanket tucked around him.

Zach's gone.

Chris presses his cheek to the arm of the couch, not quite awake; not sure if he wants to be.

Dream Zach is an asshole.

And apparently Chris' unconscious mind thinks there's about zero chance the two of them can ever be anything more than an adventure in anonymous sex.

He lets out a huffy breath and forces himself to struggle off the couch. The soft blanket comes with him. A blanket he didn't have before he fell asleep. A blanket that came all the way from the bedroom.

So maybe it's his own unconscious mind that's the asshole.

Definitely not Zach. Assholes don't cover their friends with blankets, so basically his unconscious can go fuck itself.

Smiling to himself, Chris stretches. He's exhausted, but he's got about thirty minutes now to get dressed, and get downstairs to meet Zach in the lobby.

Propelled by anticipation, he speeds through everything, including a second shower. He makes it to the lobby with time to spare.

Zach's already there, waiting for their car.

The same pleasant flip is Chris' reward. He smiles. "Hey."

"Hey." Zach's own smile is as tentative as always, but this time, Chris isn't bothered at all.


	19. The Best Laid Plans

Chris ends up sleeping for the first leg of the flight. He's woken with a gentle shake, and a whispered, "Chris?"

He blinks slowly, taking a minute to figure out where the hell he is… oh right, plane. And also… he's _drooling_ on Zach's shoulder. He sits up quickly, hand going straight his mouth as his face burns. "Oh my god," he mumbles, scratchy and probably incoherent. "Sorry."

But Zach just shakes his head. "It's okay." He doesn't even look annoyed. And he doesn't look like he's been recently sleeping either. Chris wonders how long he used Zach as a pillow, but he doesn't want to ask. "We're about to land," Zach explains, sounding apologetic.

"Oh." Chris grimaces and discreetly wipes at his face, hoping he didn't snore.

"Here," Zach says, holding out Chris' book—the one he'd been reading before he dozed off.

"Thanks."

"Have you read it before?" Zach asks, and Chris looks down at the book, and back to Zach's face.

"Watership Down?" he asks, but of course that's what he meant. "Yeah. At least a dozen times." He shrugs at the surprise. "I like to re-read books."

"No, me too. That's one of my favorites."

"Really?" Chris turns the book over to look at the inked sketch on the cover. "Most people think I'm crazy when I tell them my favorite book is about rabbits. And then I have to explain that it's not really about _rabbits_ —"

"—it's an allegory for the human condition," Zach finishes, like he's said it a hundred times before. Chris grins.

"Exactly."

Zach smiles too, but the moment is lost as the flight attendant reminds them over the loudspeaker to put their trays back into their upright positions. Chris complies, makes sure his belt is fastened.

"I haven't been to New York in ages," he muses as he glances past Zach's chest to the window, but he can't see much but the dark clouds. "How about you?"

"Not for awhile."

Chris nods, tilts his attention to the loud speaker again—this time it's the captain, announcing an ice storm making its way into the city, and theirs is one of the last planes to be allowed in.

"Grounded all night?" Chris says incredulously, echoing the sentiments of the other passengers around them. "Shit. I've got a meeting tomorrow."

"So do I," Zach sighs, but he sounds more prosaic about it. "Can you reschedule?"

"I guess." It's a meeting about a potential play that he might want to do after Trek. "Pain in the ass though."

Nothing to do about it, so he settles in to wait—impatiently drumming on his knee—while the plane slowly descends.

He's glad for their first class seats when they're finally allowed to disembark, doubly grateful for his ability to pack light. Everyone else is streaming toward baggage claim.

They still have to go through customs, of course, and that takes an age. Chris is grumpy by the time they make it to the line of taxis—made worse by the fact that he's starving and can't remember the last time he ate.

"We'll have to find a hotel," he sighs, not looking forward to figuring that out. The least the stupid airline can do is take care of it for them. "Any ideas?"

"Um, I actually have an apartment in the city," Zach tells him, and that's not welcome news. "A friend of mine is living there now," he explains when Chris looks at him in surprise. "I want to do some plays here at some point, maybe after Trek, so…"

"Oh. That's great," Chris says, just a shade too enthusiastically. "Well, okay, I'm going to go see if I can find a room, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Zach readjusts his bag over his shoulder as he squints somewhere over Chris' shoulder. "Patrick's in Hawaii for a few weeks. So uh… you could stay with me. If you wanted…"

Surprised and pleased by the offer, Chris smiles; the butterflies make a reappearance too, which Chris tries to tell himself is silly. It's not a big deal. Just a friend offering a place to crash. "OK," he says.

Zach looks back at him, with that small smile of his that isn't quite warm. It strikes Chris how wrong it looks on him, even though he's been subjected to it since they met. Maybe his face conveys some of that because Zach's eyebrows knit for a second, but then his face smoothes out, and he nods .

"We should find a taxi. And quickly, with everyone trying to get out of here…"

Chris hoists his bag up to his shoulder. "Lead the way."

Zach hesitates for a second, eyebrows doing their thing, lips parting and closing this time. But whatever he wants to say, he decides against and instead gets on with the business of getting them away from the airport.

\---

The ride to Zach's apartment is endless. At least it seems that way, especially since they end up sharing with a woman who apparently doesn't _have time for this_ , as she says ad infinitum—at a shrill volume Chris could do without—while the driver navigates at a crawl.

They finally get rid of her a block from Zach's apartment, and instead of continuing on, Zach says to the driver, "We'll get out here too."

The driver, annoyed, takes his tip with bad grace.

It's freezing outside, which the woman announces to the world in general before leaving with a huff of cold air and bad feelings.

"Welcome to New York," Chris says with irony. "Wow." He pulls his coat around himself, because it is freezing. Worse then Berlin. And snow is starting to fall, big wet flakes that burn his cheeks. "Oh my god, she was right though. It's freezing."

"Where's the hat I gave you?"

Chris digs into his pockets and comes up with both hat and gloves, happily ensconcing himself. "Thank god you came prepared."

Zach smiles at that. "Come on," he says, pointing down the street. "It's that way."

"Does the whole city shut down when it gets like this?" Chris asks while they walk with their faces tucked away from the stinging wind.

"It's rare, I think."

Chris nods, but his mind is focused on warmth and also food. Lots of food. They don't pass any restaurants on the short walk, though. And by the time they make it to Zach's building, the snow is coming down so hard, it's almost impossible to see anything.

"Jesus Christ," Chris chatters as Zach digs into his pocket for the key. "How can you stand this?"

"I'm used to it. It's not so bad."

Not so bad? Fuck that, it's unbearable. His nose is basically an icicle. And his coat is nowhere near warm enough for this. But he just nods.

Zach finally gets the door open, but the apartment is cold and Chris immediately wants to go back to the hallway. He shivers involuntarily. "No heat?"

Zach glances over at him. "Patrick probably turned it down before he left. I'll turn it up." He leaves Chris standing in the entryway to look around; at the light woods and neat lines. It's odd how very much of Zach seems to be in the space; even though he doesn't live here really.

"Did you do the decorating?" he asks when Zach comes back, his coat already off and slung over his arm.

He looks around, a surprised peak to his eyebrows. "Um, yeah…"

"I like it," Chris assures him, because he has that nervous, vulnerable look to his face; the one that just makes Chris want to hug him. "Looks like you."

The pleased smile that lights up Zach's face takes Chris' breath away.

"Thanks. It took me forever to get it the way I wanted it. My mom thinks I'm crazy to keep two places. Joe too, although he's more than happy to crash here whenever's he's in the city."

Chris smiles as he listens; he likes Zach this way. But Zach glances at him, and falls silent, some of that easy happiness fading from his expression. "Um… I can take your coat. It should warm up pretty quickly."

Chris hands over the coat, feeling restless as he watches Zach hang it carefully in the small closet. He's still starving, but he doesn't want to be a pain so he waits until the closet is closed up and Zach invites him into the living room. "You can sleep in my room," he says, gesturing toward the short hallway to the right. "And I'll take the couch."

"No, no," Chris protests, shaking his head. "It's your room. Anyway," he adds with a small smile, "I like sleeping on the couch."

"No, you should take the bed. It's fine."

"Well, we could both take the bed," Chris says before he thinks about what he's saying, and they both freeze. "But, uh…" he rallies fairly quickly, "… that would probably be awkward…" Okay, so he can't really bounce back from that. He shrugs, and tries a smile. Zach does his best as well.

"You take the bed," he says. "I can always sleep in Patrick's room if I need too… which is technically the guest room, or it will be when I move back here…"

"Thanks, then," Chris says, in a rush, right over the clumsy silence. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure. There's a bathroom in there, so if you want a shower, or anything…"

"OK. Thanks." Still awkward. "Should I…?" He gestures to his bag, and Zach grimaces.

"Sorry, yeah. It's this way." He leads the way down the short hallway, bypasses the first room, which looks comfortably lived in and opens the other door. "So... yeah," he says as he steps back to let Chris in, "whatever you need."

"Thanks."

Zach nods, and they both stand there, not exactly avoiding eye contact, but close enough. Chris' stomach takes that moment to grumble unhappily.

Before he can even consider embarrassment, Zach grimaces again. "Oh my god, I should have realised you'd be hungry. I don't know what Patrick has, but um—" He glances out the window, at the furious snow. "I don't know if we should chance ordering something, or—"

"Whatever you have here is fine."

"I'll find something."

Chris sets his bag on the bed and they make their way to the kitchen; another room that looks exactly like Chris would imagine Zach choosing.

"Are you planning to move here permanently?" he asks while Zach abandons the fridge—which has nothing in it—and moves on to one of the cupboards.

"Oh, um…" Zach pauses in his study of a box of Barilla to look back at him. "If I do any plays, I guess. I don't really know. I'll probably be back and forth a lot." He holds up the box. "Do you like pasta?"

"Sure."

"Okay, well, I can do a really good pesto with cavatelli; I think I have everything I need. If you like pesto?" His mouth is an uncertain line, and honestly Chris would rather just skip the pesto and focus on Zach's lips instead.

Except he actually _is_ starving. "Love it. Can I help?"

"You don't need to—"

"Yes, but I want to," Chris tells him, feeling all sorts of impatient and hiding it all with a smile. "I like cooking." He doesn't care about cooking one way or another.

"Oh. Sure." Zach considers the box of pasta and finally hands it over. "Can you…"

"Boil water? Think I can manage that. Where are your pots?"

"Patrick's pots," Zach murmurs, although why it matters Chris doesn't know. "They're in the cabinet next to the oven…"

Chris finds one that should work and fills it with water, watching out of the corner of his eye while Zach digs up the rest of the ingredients. "What is that?" he asks when Zach pulls some leafy stuff from the freezer.

"Basil."

"You can freeze basil?"

"Sure. Patrick's a chef, so he's always doing weird things with food. He's pretty amazing in the kitchen."

 _Amazing in the kitchen_. It's not the words, but the fond smile Zach is currently sharing with the frozen basil.

Placing a lid on the pot, eyes focused on his task now that the pot is on the stove and heating up, Chris asks as nonchalantly as he can manage, "Are you and Patrick… um, a thing?"

Yeah, real subtle, Pine.

There's a pause wherein Zach's knife against the chopping board is the only sound and then a somewhat quiet, "He's straight."

There seems to be nothing much to say to that, although Chris has the weird feeling that he should apologize. Instead, he turns around and asks, "What else can I do?"

"Plates." Zach's busy with a blender, not looking at him. "Next to the sink."

Okay, so it probably wasn't the best question. He sighs internally and fetches the plates. Glasses as well, because they're sitting right there. And even if they're just regular glasses… "How about some wine with dinner?"

"Patrick doesn't keep alcohol here."

"Oh." He wants to press for an explanation for that, but doesn't. And god, how interesting is basil anyway? Zach's drizzling olive oil into the blender now in between quiet pulses of the motor, frowning and intent. This is getting ridiculous. It wasn't _that_ weird to ask if he and Patrick like to fuck.

And the bed thing…

Okay, so it was weird on both counts. "Okay, so, uh, I was thinking," he begins, figuring it's better to just be direct.

"Pasta"

"Huh?"

Zach gestures with his shoulder, still not looking away from his stupid basil. "The water's boiling."

Chris frowns at the back of his head and takes care of the pot, adding the little hot dog bun-shaped pasta carefully so he doesn't splash himself with boiling water. And with that finished, he asks for the next step.

"Just need to wait for it to cook," Zach tells him, finally turning away from the blender. He has a smudge of green pesto on his chin. "The pesto's ready. And there really isn't anything for a salad or…"

"It's fine." And since he has Zach's attention now, he asks, "You're not seeing anyone, are you? I mean, I assumed after the dancing…" And that turns Zach straight back to his blender.

But at least he answers while he's fiddling, "Not right now, no."

"But you do?" Chris asks. "See people? I mean, not just in clubs, or…"

"Of course I do." He's gone tense across his shoulders. "I'm not just some asshole with a riding crop."

Taken aback by the brittle tone, Chris stares at him for a second. "I know," he eventually finds his voice. "I didn't think that."

Zach's silence is pretty damning.

Chris feels abruptly sick, even though he's almost positive that's not entirely the right response. At the time, he'd been justified in calling Zach an asshole. And more, besides. Or maybe you're never justified in things like that.

"I don't think you're an asshole."

Zach sighs. "I know you don't."

"And that's… a bad thing?"

"I don't know," Zach mumbles, raking a hand through his hair before finally turning around. "Probably."

Chris tilts his head. "Probably?"

But Zach doesn't elaborate.

"I was just mad when I said it," Chris tries to explain anyway.

"And you had every right to be."

A rehashing was not really what Chris had in mind. "Okay, but I wasn't talking about the sex stuff anyway. I was good with all of that."

Zach jaw is tight again; which was not the point.

"And the rest you apologized for," he says, feeling stupid, "so we're good. And I don't think you're an asshole."

A quick nod. "OK."

OK? Chris makes a frustrated noise, but that doesn't help. " _Zach_. I'm trying to tell you that I like you."

Which, he might not have exactly meant to say out loud. Zach blinks, and slowly his eyebrows scrunch together. "What?" he says blankly.

Chris has a panicked moment where he wants to retract it, but it's out there now and it's true, so… "I like you," he says again. "As in, I would really like to try it again, this time without the smoke and mirrors."

Zach's still just staring.

"I'm going to assume it's not an outright no," Chris goes for humor, smiling a little. "Since you haven't told me to get the fuck out."

Zach frowns. "I wouldn't do that."

"No, I know," Chris assures him, didn't mean to offend. "So…"

Zach licks his lips; his eyes—no longer so confused—stray to Chris' mouth. "Is that what that was in Berlin?" he asks. "You were jealous?"

Grimacing at the memory, Chris nods. "Pretty much."

"I didn't..." Zach swallows. "I wondered, but I didn't think you'd ever want to…"

"Well, I do." Chris moves carefully toward him, half afraid he'll spook. But Zach just watches him. "You've got a little pesto…" He drags a thumb across Zach's chin. "… right there." He sucks off the sauce. "It's good."

Zach's eyes haven't left his mouth. "Is it?"

"Mhmm…" And when Chris leans in to kiss him, as soon as their lips meet, Zach inhales sharply, surprised. More surprised than he should be. Chris pulls back, and they stare at each other, only centimeters away, Zach's eyes dilated. "OK?" Chris whispers, feeling blind and impossibly virginal.

Zach shakes his head, and Chris deflates. "It's not a good idea." But even as he says it, Zach's fingers settle at his hip and that brings the giddy feeling right back. "It won't be the same."

"I know," Chris assures him. And although it shouldn't need to be clarified, he adds, "I don't want you because of the sex. I just… I just like you."

The dark eyebrows have gone back to confusion.

Chris smiles a little. "Would it make it easier if I told you I just want a fuck buddy?"

And that earns him another frown. "No." A pause. " _Do_ you?"

"No. I had fun that night, but it's not what I want."

Zach nods. His fingers curl in Chris' shirt, just his pinkie grazing skin and Chris swallows. Zach's watching his mouth again and this time, when Chris kisses him, there's no surprise.

Zach's free hand frames his jaw, thumb caressing while the other pulls him closer; presses into his lower back, so that Chris is pulled right against him and this is good. Perfect. Nothing like Chris thought it would be. It's gentle and slow, but he can feel Zach getting hard.

And when they break, they're both breathing heavily, foreheads together.

"We don't have to do anything else," Zach says quietly.

"I want to."

Zach closes his eyes, kisses the corner of his mouth. "What about dinner?"

"Later."

Zach takes a deep breath and Chris waits for the rebuff, but Zach asks, "Bedroom?"

Chris grins. "I knew you didn't really want the couch."

Zach smiles, and they're kissing again. They have to pause to turn off the burner—Chris fumbles with it while Zach's hands roam under his shirt and by the time they're in the bedroom, he's waiting for a sharp order, or a rough shove toward the bed; or the wall again, but it doesn't come. Just Zach kissing him, walking them backward, pulling him gently onto the mattress.

He makes no move to roll them, so Chris breathes encouragement, "Whatever you want."

Zach tugs at his shirt in answer and Chris helps him get it out of the way. Zach finally rolls them after that, and Chris lifts his chin as soon as Zach's lips find his neck. But instead of teeth, it's kisses that move downward, trailing down his chest; to his stomach and then Zach's mouthing at the hard line of his dick through his jeans and he doesn't care that this is nothing like he expected.

"Please," he rasps and that's all it takes for Zach to unzip and pull him free. Kissing and suckling at the head while he works the shaft with this own spit. Chris' fingers claw at the blanket, doing his best to keep still even though Zach hasn't asked him to.

It's impossible anyway, and his hips jerk up, making Zach gag. He shakes his head at Chris' breathless apology and takes a second to pull off his sweater, wipes his mouth with it before tossing it away.

And finally, Chris gets a look at his chest. At the patch of hair that looks a little like the bat signal. He has no time to appreciate it though because Zach is straight back to blowing him, and when Chris' legs start to shake, he pulls off.

"What do you want?" he asks quietly, out of breath.

His hands are kneading Chris' thighs and Chris can't do anything but gasp, "Whatever… anything you want… just _please_ …"

Zach's hands grip his thighs tightly for a second and Chris holds his breath; waiting for… whatever he has in mind.

There are phantom aches where Zach bruised his skin all those months ago, and Chris wants that again. All of it.

But it turns out what Zach wants is to fuck him slowly, face to face. But when it comes to it, Chris has no complaints. Not after the thorough preparation, gentle though it was. "Yeah, yeah," he breathes, like a mantra when Zach is finally balls deep.

It's the slowest fuck of his life, but Zach knows exactly what he's doing, angles his hips just right and Chris pushes into it, cranes his neck when Zach bends down to kiss him.

Chris whimpers as he thrusts in again. "Good?" Zach pants, kissing at his face, everywhere he can reach, sucks gently at his neck while Chris mumbles something that's supposed to be agreement. There's no more talking after that though; not when Zach takes him in hand and starts jerking him slowly, in time to his thrusts.

And then Chris is coming, gasping and gabbling incoherently until Zach dips down to kiss him again. Hard this time, with teeth— _fucking finally_ —and Zach's coming too, gasping; and Chris swears his orgasm lasts longer than usual. Like it did that night in the club.

With a final kiss, Zach pulls out, holding onto the end of the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash by the far wall.

"Good aim," Chris mumbles, but just in case he has any bright ideas, he tugs him back down, and they're quiet, limbs tangled, Zach's nose mashed against his cheek while Chris tries to get his breath back.

Too soon though, Zach slides away. Chris grunts a protest, turning as much as lax muscles will allow. Zach's gets up anyway, but his palm skates down Chris' leg, squeezing gently at his ankle before he disappears into the en suite.

He reappears a moment later in sweatpants, and with a warm washcloth, which he uses on Chris' stomach, over his flaccid dick. "Thanks," Chris says, stretching languidly.

"You okay?" Zach asks, and the soft words bring Chris back to the dark club, the only gentle words Zach used all night.

Chris smiles. "Yeah." He brushes his fingers through the hair on Zach's chest. "That was amazing."

Zach's eyes light up, that smile that Chris wants to see every day. His stomach ruins the mood once more. Zach laughs at that. "The pasta will be all gummy now."

"We can make more. Although… I need a shower first. Wanna join? Get me all soaped up? Make me beg for another orgasm?"

"Tempting," Zach says, but his smile's lost some of its brilliance. "But I should go start the water boiling again. It takes forever." He kisses Chris lightly. "There are towels in the cabinet."

Chris watches him go, wondering what he did wrong.


	20. the way we were

Chris pads out to the kitchen, hair damp and his t-shirt sticking to him in patches. Zach's found a shirt as well, a black one that's clings to him, and it makes Chris wish he'd had more time to explore.

Zach glances at him as he leans against the doorframe; he's carefully stirring new pasta into the boiling water. His smile, before he returns his attention to the pasta, is missing several of its earlier watts.

"Everything okay?" Chris asks.

Zach gestures to the pot. "Another seven minutes."

Not at all what Chris meant, but he can't quite figure out how he wants to begin this conversation. Because he's not _exactly_ sure what's wrong. He crosses the kitchen, runs his fingers up Zach's arm when he's close enough. Zach smiles at him, warm and genuine, and that's worth something.

So maybe there wasn't really anything wrong before—it's just new. And with everything that happened before…

Taking his chances, Chris moves behind him, wraps his arms around Zach's chest and immediately, Zach relaxes back into him. That little flutter resurges in Chris' chest.

One of Zach's hands settles over his; squeezes. Chris smiles into the soft hair at the back of his neck. "Smells good," he murmurs.

"And I'm not even wearing cologne," Zach says; Chris can hear the smile in his voice.

He chuckles, kisses his nape. "I meant the pesto. I'm starving."

"This is going to be a thing with you, isn't it?"

"Hey, I haven't eaten all day."

"You inhaled the chicken on the plane."

"Plane food though… doesn't count."

Zach huffs a laugh. "Five minutes and I promise I'll feed you."

"Thank you." They're quiet then, watching the pasta rolling in the water. And this… _this_ is nice. "So… that was fun," he eventually says.

"Mm," Zach agrees; he's lifting one of the weirdly shaped pastas from the pot, blowing on it as the water drips through the slots in the spoon.

"We can go again later, right?" Chris asks. "Because seriously, I haven't felt that good… well, in forever." Since that night in the club, basically, but he's not sure he should clarify.

"Oh yeah?"

"Not even close."

Zach puts down the spoon and turns in his arms, smiling that same brilliant smile as he cups Chris' face. "Not even close, huh?"

"Nope."

The kiss this time is a promise, and it makes Chris even more certain that this will work. Especially since Zach's still smiling when he twists in his arms to take the pasta off the stove.

"And we don't have to do the shower thing," he adds, wants to be sure nothing else will derail them. Zach's smile falters as he turns back. "If you're not into the shower," Chris rushes to add, "or if you want to take more time before we play…" He trails off, taking in Zach's stiff expression, trying to understand it. "I mean, I get it. We can take our time; with everything."

Zach pulls away, and Chris feels as cold as he did outside. He knew he did something wrong.

"I don't…" Zach is frowning. "You said it wasn't what you wanted. That night."

Chris wrinkles his nose, trying to make that make sense. "What did I say?"

"You said it was fun, but it isn't what you want."

Okay, talk about crossed wires. "I meant…" He gestures, hoping the words will appear magically. "… anonymous sex, a one-off at a club. I meant I want a relationship. I already told you I liked the sex stuff."

Zach's face makes no sense. The stiff expression makes no sense. "What is it?" Chris asks. "What's wrong?"

Zach grips his floppy hair, squeezes it like a stress ball, and lets out a sharp breath. "I just… I don't _do_ that, okay?"

"You don't do what?" 

" _That_." Zach flips his wrists, like the agitated movement is supposed to mean something. "Those things. Not with guys I'm seeing."

It takes a second to process enough to echo, "Those things?" Okay, so not enough time to process. "As in, you don't play with your boyfriends? The leather, ordering me around, all of that—"

"Yes." It's an explosive noise, not loud though, just… Zach's face is flushed, his lips mashed tight together and Chris finds his throat is tight too. He cannot believe this.

"Are you saying, you just, I don't know, you do that on the side, because that is not what I meant when I said I wanted to—"

" _No._ " It comes out way too loud. Zach swipes a hand over his mouth and shakes his head. The second, "No," is softer. "I wouldn't… I've never cheated on anyone."

"Okay," Chris says slowly, the rapid panic of his heartbeat slowing a little. But... "I don't get it."

Zach is quiet for a minute and Chris can see the struggle, the little jump behind his jaw; his arms are wrapped tightly around himself again. "I just don't like to… to do that with guys I'm dating."

"Why?" Chris asks blankly, even as he realises that's not really the biggest question here; something along the lines of why the hell can't you say the words might be more appropriate, but his brain seems to be compromised. "You're saying you only play with strangers?"

Zach nods tightly.

Chris still doesn't get it. "Does it just not turn you on… with people you know? Is that part of the kink—"

"No, it's not that." Zach's fingers are squeezing his biceps, knuckles white. "I just prefer to do it the normal way."

Chris stares at him, but can only come up a bewildered, "Zach…" There are about a million things wrong with that statement. But everything starts to make sense. Zach's reaction when Chris found out, his desperate attempts to try to hide it in the first place. Zach's _ashamed_.

And Chris has no idea what to do with that.

Zach must read some of that in his face. "This isn't… Is that going to be a problem, because I thought…"

"It's not a problem." The embargo on kinky sex is not the problem. He's been in relationships wherein vanilla reigned, so no, he doesn't need that to be in a relationship with Zach. His fucked-up understanding of what's normal though... That's more than a little worrying. "I told you," he says, shaking away the cobwebs. He slips fingers beneath Zach's hem, brushes a soothing thumb over his stomach, "I don't like you because of that night."

"In spite of it?" He says it with a half-laugh, but there's acceptance beneath it. Chris can't stand that look in his eye. He kisses him softly.

"Not in spite of it either."

Zach nods a little, the immediate relief deftly hidden as he finally stops hugging himself and pulls Chris to him instead.

Maybe Zach was right. Maybe this isn't a good idea.

And yet, he's standing in Zach's kitchen, reassuring him with kisses while their second batch of pasta turns to goo.


	21. like an old, worn out shoe

Awake before the sun's up—thank you very much, jet lag—Chris is staring at the shadowed ceiling

Zach's beside him, an arm slung across Chris' waist. He's still asleep. He's a very quiet sleeper. A good bedmate in all respects, honestly. No blanket hogging, no limbs flung to all corners. The perfect amount of cuddle too.

Except for the whole kink is not normal thing, it's pretty much perfect.

Even the vanilla sex. Which he enjoyed immensely after the gummy pasta. In the shower too, at Zach's insistence. Where he did, in fact, soap Chris up.

"So gorgeous," he hummed beneath his ear while his hand stayed busy on Chris' dick. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Surprised, Chris opened his eyes, but Zach only smiled in encouragement, caressed Chris' slit with his thumb, sending tremors through Chris' legs. "Um, I don't really…"

He has topped, of course. With women, more often than men, but he even then, he prefers to let them take control. With Zach, he has no interest at all in topping.

He was about to offer anyway, but Zach kissed him.

"Okay," he said, his tone giving only reassurance and ease. Kissed him again, pressed their bodies flush so that Chris was surrounded by wet heat, Zach's hard stomach, his tight fist, until he came with a gasp.

Zach fucked him after that, once they kissed and touched long enough that Chris was aching for it again. And just like the first time, he had no complaints.

Even though he could feel Zach holding back, the clench of fingers against his bicep—or the back of his neck in one lucky, fleeting moment—before they relaxed again and Zach kissed him with a little more enthusiasm.

Chris wondered then what it would take to make him lose control. Which was not a very helpful thought, even if it did make Chris come with a shout.

Zach had seemed pleased with that anyway.

And so here they are, cozy in Zach's bed, only a few hours from their trip back home. If their plane takes off as scheduled. Chris would be fine either way. On the one hand, tucked away in New York, where no one has a clue what they're doing—that sounds pretty great.

Back in L.A… it suddenly seems a whole lot more complicated.

Zach shifts beside him, and Chris is grateful for the mental reprieve. He turns his head, watches Zach blink at him. "Hey."

"Hey."

Zach's fingers twitch against his bare skin, his thumb brushing lightly over his belly button. "Still okay?" he asks, which seems like a weird question. But then, nothing about any of this seems like it will ever be normal. Chris smiles, moves his hand to tangle their fingers.

"Other than the jet lag, and the fact that I'm starving… yes."

Zach smiles too. "I cant help with your circadian rhythm, but I can probably find breakfast for us." He scoots in closer, hovering over him now, eyes dark as they roam over Chris' chest but instead of kissing him, he says, "Give me five."

"OK," Chris agrees, trying not to sound like he's already half hard just from that look. Zach smiles like he knows anyway and gets out of bed. But at least Chris gets a good view of his ass as he goes.

Naked sleeping is really the best kind.

And since Chris has been awake for awhile, he's already done the brushing and pissing thing so he stays in bed, ignoring the millions of questions they should probably be answering and wonders instead if he can get another blowjob.

Zach slides back into bed with minty kisses and the suggestion all on his own. "My breakfast," he says grinning when Chris breathes something about please, god yes. Chris laughs, breathlessly, enjoying the playful grin, the way Zach teases with kisses until Chris gasps out a plea for more.

And when he finally begs, "Fuck me. Please," he's obliged in that too. Face to face again, and Chris wonders fleetingly if he can ask for it on his knees. He moans just thinking about it, imagining Zach pushing his face into the mattress, ass high in the air. And maybe Zach's fingers would leave bruises on his neck; or his hips because Zach would have to shift his ass higher, but would make him beg before he found just the right angle.

Chris hips stutter at the thought, fingers scrabbling at Zach's back—actual Zach, not the one in his head. And it's good. Perfect, the way Zach stretches to kiss him, grinning at the little needy noises Chris hasn't been told not to make. And just the though of Zach ordering him to be silent—or better, a hot palm over his mouth—makes him come.

He groans, and just for a second, Zach's grip tightens around his knees, fingernails gouging his flesh, and then Zach snaps his hips so sharply that Chris rocks back. And god, he wants another. He tries to tell Zach to do it again, but the harsh grip relaxes and Zach's kissing him roughly. It almost feels like a punishment, but before Chris can fully appreciate it, Zach's coming.

"That was…" Chris can't even get the words out. Something about why the fuck did you hold back?

"Yeah," Zach mutters in between sloppy kisses. "Yeah…"

Chris wonders as they lie there, only wet breaths between them, how long it will take before Zach gets tired of holding back and decides monogamy with Chris isn't worth it.

-o-

"So," Chris broaches the first question when they're all bundled up and waiting at a café for a table. "You're not out."

Zach blinks at him, and then glances around the noisy room, but no one seems to care about them one way or another—perk of not being a bonafide movie star. "Um, not really."

"Not really?"

"I just don't really talk about it," Zach says with a shrug. "No one's asked outright yet."

Another perk of not being a household name, although in a few months it might be a problem. "So… same for this?"

Zach's frowning, but it's a considering sort of frown. "Probably? Was that… not what you were thinking?"

"No, it is," Chris assures him. It's never been an issue for him either. He doesn't think anyone suspects he's bi. "The Trek producers would probably prefer it that way too."

Zach's face twists with distaste, but like almost everything else, he doesn't seem to be too bothered.

"But um," Chris ventures, "what about friends?"

The host ushers them toward a table at that point, so they have to wait until they're out of their coats and sitting at a small table. Zach orders chai, while Chris asks for a more traditional orange juice.

"Did you want to keep it between us?" Zach asks when they're alone again. He's busy studying the menu, and the question sounds unconvincingly nonchalant.

"No, I was just… Well, won't it be sort of weird to explain to Zoe and Kristen?"

Zach purses his lips at the menu. "Um, not really. They both told me I was being a jerk, so… they liked you better than me before we left."

Chris has no idea why that should make his chest tight. It's good news, honestly. Especially on the Zoe front. But seriously, Zach's face might just kill him one of these days. He nudges his foot under the table. "Your friend with the wine will be happy. The boyfriend."

Zach smiles as he brings his head up. "Kevin. He has a thing for Kirk."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Lips still curved in amusement, Zach says, "I think I'll try the tofu scramble."

Doesn't sound good at all to Chris, but he makes a noise that should sound encouraging. "Eggs for me. I'm not supposed to be eating carbs," he says with a sigh. "Your pasta last night was cheating."

Zach makes a face. "They're going to kill us when we start training."

"Two days," Chris agrees. But he's actually looking forward to it. Any time spent with Zach is a win as far as he's concerned.

-o-

His sister doesn't agree.

She calls when they're waiting to board. "You're not back yet?" she asks, surprised. "Where are you?"

"New York. About to get on our plane."

"Our? Zach's with you?"

"Um." Chris' eyes dart to Zach, who is sitting beside him, texting his agent. "Yeah."

"Is he still being a complete ass?"

"Uh… no, it's…" Zach looks up, eyebrows peaking, so maybe he hears the unease in Chris' voice. "Hold on," he says to Katie. He makes a gesture with his elbow toward the wall and although Zach nods, he looks puzzled. "So, actually," he says once he's moved away, "interesting story…"

"Yes?" she prompts.

"We're actually…" How is he supposed to explain this? "He's been really great. And we're kind of…"

"Oh my god, Chris. You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

"Look, it's complicated—"

" _Seriously_ , Chris? He was a total jerk!"

The boarding announcement cuts off the rest of her objection. Thank god. "I have to board," he tells her.

" _Chris_."

"You can yell at me later."

"Ugh."

"Love you too," he says sweetly before he clicks off. Zach's waiting, adjusting his bag.

"Everything okay?"

"Yep." It will be. Katie just has to get to know him. "What about your agent?" he asks as they're cleared by the ticket agent. "Did you change your meeting?"

"For tomorrow, yeah."

"Good."

"Was that your agent?" Zach asks. "On the phone?"

"My sister."

"Oh. Do you want the window or aisle?"

"I have aisle," Chris says, waiting while Zach squishes himself against a seat as someone passes.

"If you want the window, it's yours." He smiles when Chris hesitates. "Take the window."

"You sure?"

Zach gives him a little nudge in the right direction and Chris goes, wondering if that's all he's ever going to get of aggressive Zach. "Thanks," he says as they settle.

Zach squeezes his thigh. It's comfortable, just the two of them, like this. Chris hopes he'll be allowed to get used to it.


	22. Make it Stick

"Do you have stuff to do?" Zach asks. They're amongst the sea of people waiting for taxis. He's got his fingers curled in the strap hanging from Chris' backpack.

Chris smiles at him, at the question he's masking poorly. "Do you want to come to my place?"

Zach's answering smile is shy, but also pleased. Chris wants to kiss him in the middle of the pavement. He settles for butting up close to his side while they wait for a taxi.

But when they make it back to Chris' apartment, with every intention of flopping on the bed, which Zach deems heaven with all of its soft pillows, just to rest for a second, they end up sleeping for six hours.

When Chris wakes up again, it's dark. He can hear Zach fumbling around. Knocking things over, which is what woke him up. "What the fuck time is it?" he grumbles.

"Seven. Why is your room so dark?"

"Blackout blinds."

" _Shit_."

"What's wrong?" Chris asks, pushing up and rubbing at his face.

"Stubbed my toe."

Stifling laughter, Chris reaches over and flips on the lamp beside the bed, flooding the room with light. He makes a face, shielding his eyes as Zach grumbles something unintelligible and hops the rest of the way to the bed, which he sinks onto with a wince.

"You okay?" Chris asks in concern, squinting and still trying to adjust to the brightness.

"I think it's broken." The slight pout probably means it's not, but Chris tuts in sympathy anyway.

"Poor baby." He curls a loose hand over the ankle and they both study it solemnly, Chris eventually leaning in to kiss at his cheek, his chin, finally his nose; which makes Zach smile.

"I guess I'll live," he eventually sighs. Chris smiles and brushes his fingertips over the arch. Zach jerks his foot away, the huff of laughter making Chris grin.

"Oh my god, don't," Zach protests.

"Ticklish?"

"No… _Chris_ ," he gasps as an attack is launched against his sides. He topples over, but Chris follows, and then ends up squirming away as Zach figures out that he's ticklish too.

They end up tangled and laughing—Chris having begged for surrender—both breathless as they grin at each other. Chris takes a chance that he won't mind morning breath, and kisses him. Zach's enthusiastic response is encouraging.

Before he can do more than tug Chris closer though, the buzz of the downstairs door interrupts.

"It's seven at night, right?" Chris says, frowning. Although either way, it's a weird time to have a visitor.

"How do you ever tell what time it is with these blinds?"

Chris pokes him in the chest, but Zach just smiles and rolls off the bed. "Do you want me to hide?"

Chris thinks he's kidding, but honestly, Zach's face is hard to read sometimes; most of the time. "It's probably just someone buzzing the wrong apartment."

He goes out to check anyway, Zach veering off into the bathroom. The door buzzes again, and Chris frowns. He depresses the talk button. "Yeah?"

"You _are_ home," Katie's exasperated voice fills the room. "Buzz us in."

Us. He makes the query out loud, hoping it's her current boyfriend. Chloe's cheerful, "Me!" takes that possibility away.

Without viable options, he buzzes them up, opens the door so they won't have to knock. Katie's face isn't promising. "How was ignoring my phone calls ever going to work?" she asks in greeting.

"I was asleep. This little thing called jet lag."

"Mhmm."

Chloe ignores their sniping and kisses him briefly. "So you actually slept with him, huh?"

"Um, he's in the bedroom, so…" Chris walks them to the living room and Zach chooses that moment to appear. He visibly halts in his tracks though when he sees Chloe. Chris has a moment of panic, because even though Chloe swore she wasn't mean to him, the expression on Zach's face makes him wonder.

But Chloe, because she's Chloe, gives no hint that she ever had reason to dislike him. She simply smiles and greets him with a friendly, "Hi."

His is a little more hesitant, although at least he offers a smile. Chris drifts back to where he's standing, gesturing to his sister. "This is Katie. Katie, Zach." He ends with a hand on Zach's arm, which Katie immediately hones in on before flicking her eyes back to Zach's face.

Her greeting is a cool, "Hello."

Zach pulls his arm away from Chris' touch and offers her a hand. "It's good to meet you, Katie."

She takes his hand, but anyone with half a brain can see the reservation stamped all over her face. Unlike Zach, she has zero acting skill. "You too," she says anyway. "I've heard a lot about you."

Chris wants to give her a dirty look for that, but refrains. And then they all stand there awkwardly until Zach says, "Um, I should probably go. I told Joe I would pick up Noah and Harold tonight."

"His cat and dog," Chris clarifies for the confusion from both women. To Zach he asks, "You don't want to get dinner first?"

"That's all right," Zach says. "I'll let you guys catch up. And I'll, uh… call you later."

Chris would like to press him to stay—and to shoo his sister and Chloe out, but stuck like this all he does is nod. "OK." They stare at each other for a second, but before Chris can decide if he would object to a very miniscule dose of PDA, Zach turns back to Katie and Chloe.

"It was nice to meet you."

They mirror his farewells. It's awkward all around this time.

Zach grabs his bag from where it's sitting on the couch, slinging it over his shoulder.

"I'll walk you out," Chris says before he gets a preemptive goodbye as well. "Sorry about that," he says once they're at the door. Zach shrugs, his eyes doing that thing where they roam everywhere but over Chris' face.

"It's not your fault." His gaze makes it back to where it belongs. "You told her about me?"

"Not about the club," Chris tries to reassure, but he's not really sure that's all that helpful. "Just…"

"That I was asshole," Zach fills in quietly, nodding. Chris rubs his bicep, leans in to kiss him when the muscles don't relax. Zach responds, but only briefly. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to keep saying that. And don't worry about Katie. Big sister." He shrugs, smiles a little. Zach drops his head, arms crossing his chest and for a second, Chris' insides squeeze. But then, Zach drops his arms and Chris is gathered up tightly.

So tightly that he almost can't breathe. Breathing, he decides, is overrated. Especially when Zach presses his lips to Chris' forehead. "I'll call you after I pick up Noah and Harold," he mutters. It's almost a question, but when Chris hums an agreement, Zach breathes in slowly before pulling away.

"See you later," he says quietly and then he's gone, leaving Chris very confused. And even more reluctant to go back to the inquisition waiting in the living room.

He sighs, not caring if they hear it, and goes back in. They have the guilty look of eavesdroppers. He ignores that for the moment. "If this is an intervention—"

"It's not an intervention," Chloe tells him calmly, taking his arm and steering him to the couch. He gives up and just sits, eyebrows expectant. Her lips twitch. Katie looks considerably less amused.

"What happened?" she asks, getting straight to the point like always. God help a bush beater. "Before you left, you were miserable—"

"I know," he cuts her off, doesn't really want to explain. Wishes he had never involved her in the first place. "We worked it out, okay, and I'm good with it."

"But how did you even..."

"End up in bed," Chloe finishes for her, helpful as ever.

"Oh my god," he exhales. "Do we really have to?"

"Chris, a week ago you were practically comatose over him," Katie trots out her patient, you are a moron voice. "So, what happened?"

"Something at that party we went to?" Chloe asks. "Not something good though. And you were convinced he was having a threesome with Zoe and Kristen."

"Well, he wasn't."

Katie points out, "And you said he was the biggest asshole—"

"I _know_."

Katie shuts up then, not used to the sharp curtail. He sighs again.

"I was wrong, okay?" He wasn't wrong exactly but he doesn't know how to explain. "He had stuff going on, and after he explained… It's good, okay?" He gives up on the explanation. "So, just… just be nice to him."

They glance at each other. Chloe raises her eyebrows in some secret bosom buddies language that Chris doesn't understand.

Katie has a weird smile on her face when she turns back. "You're in love with him."

"Um, no," Chris says, too surprised to do much else.

"I know what you're like when you're in love," Katie says. "You never get protective like that otherwise."

"Can we please talk about something else? Like dinner? Because I'm starving."

Another knowing glance between them, and Chris is done. He stands up. "I'm going to out to find food. Are you coming or not?"

They do come, but they don't bring up Zach again. Although they do exchange more of their knowing looks. He ignores them.

And Zach doesn't call.

He does text though, explaining that he's held up at his brother's house. He doesn't give specifics.

Chris spends the night alone, and can't sleep.


	23. With a Side of Celibacy

He wants to pretend he can't sleep because of the jet lag—and that is a good excuse considering he took an evening nap. But the fact that he can't stop thinking about Zach is probably also part of the problem.

He wonders if Zach is awake too. And if he is, would he mind a midnight call?

Maybe a text just to check if he's even awake…

He waffles, finger clicking his phone on and off while having a heated argument with himself about whether or not he's being a moron. He lands on moron. They're together—a fuck buddy is not what either of them wanted. He has verbal proof. So he turns the phone back on and taps out: **You awake?**

He's surprised—and stupidly elated—when the phone rings almost immediately. He answers it, as breathlessly as a teenager would. "Hey."

"Hey." Zach's voice is soft, welcoming and it makes Chris' pulse ridiculous. "Can't sleep?"

"Not really. What was J.J. thinking, making us go to Berlin for a day?"

"Yeah," Zach agrees, a laugh beneath the words, "what kind of asshole thinks of his family vacation before the actors in his new franchise?"

"Point," Chris admits, settling in more comfortably under his blankets. The room is still pitch black except for the glow from the phone. "So, what are you doing?"

"Trying to convince Noah I won't leave him again. And also watching an I Dream of Jeannie marathon."

Chris laughs. "Really?"

"Hey, Larry Hagman was hot."

"I know. And so was Barbara Eden. Two for one."

"Mm."

"That doesn't, um… bother you, does it?" Chris asks, because it has bothered other boyfriends in the past. "That fact that I'm bi?"

"No," Zach answers, and he sounds surprised enough that Chris believes him. They're quiet for a moment after that, Chris trying to figure out something significant to say; something to justify the middle of the night call.

"Do you want to come over?" he finally just asks what he wants to ask.

"Oh. Um…"

"You don't have to," Chris says quickly, face growing hot. "I was just—"

"No, no, I do," Zach breaks in and it settles Chris' frantic pulse a little. "It's just Noah's being clingy. I've been gone a lot lately…"

"Oh. Okay, no problem." It's probably a legitimate excuse. Maybe.

"Do you want to, maybe… come over here?"

"Yeah?" The relieved query is out before he can stop it, and he wishes he had been a bit more relaxed about it, but Zach doesn't seem to mind.

"Yeah," sounding more confident. "Come over."

"OK."

They hang up, and Chris takes an extra five to fix his hair, although he leaves his stubble where it is. Zach seemed to like it last time, running his tongue over it while he hummed appreciation.

He grins at himself in the mirror, exactly like his teenage self would have done and only feels a little silly. And when he shows up at Zach's door ten minutes later, the excitement is still warm in his chest.

Zach opens the door, smiling as well. The dog at his feet, presumably Noah, is bouncing around exuberantly, although he doesn't actually jump up. "Noah?" Chris asks with a smile.

"In all his glory."

"Can I?"

Zach steps back and Chris holds out a hand, like he's done a million times before with other strange dogs. Noah's nose is wet, his excitement infectious and when Chris drops to his knees, he gets a face full of kisses. He laughs, but Zach only lets it go on for a few seconds before he's saying, "Noah. Enough."

Noah backs away obediently, sitting down on the wood floor, tail still swishing happily. "Wow, impressive," Chris says in admiration.

"You need a firm hand," Zach explains. He's talking about the dog. Chris' dick twitches anyway. The thought of Zach saying that to him, with the same tone he used at the club; when he was just the anonymous dom… God, he wants that.

He nods carefully, not straightening right away. Gives his dick a second to behave itself while he scritches Noah behind the ear.

"Harold's around here somewhere," Zach goes on, oblivious to everything. Chris nods along, finally straightening up even though his dick is no less interested in finding Zach's dominant side. It doesn't help that Zach's moved closer. He smells good, looks even better. Well, fuck it. Chris kisses him in the middle of his next sentence, not giving a damn about his cat, or whatever the fuck else he's talking about.

Caught off guard, Zach makes a noise of surprise, but only another second and he's responding. Another sound, deep in his throat. It goes straight to Chris' dick. He moans, but it's swallowed up as Zach backs him into the wall, arms coming up to trap him there, on either side of his head and that's almost exactly what he wants. Almost, almost. Zach slides his hands down Chris' chest, but doesn't make any move toward his wrists.

Not enough, not enough, Chris brain helpfully taunts. He pushes his hips forward, sharply, trying to get more contact and immediately Zach shoves him back. Chris grunts, surprised, and everything stops.

"Sorry," Zach breathes, palms lifting so that only his fingers slide back up again as he moves his lips to Chris' neck, kissing softly, like an apology. His breaths are uneven as he tries to bring himself back under control. But Chris doesn't want that.

"It's fine," he rasps, arching up again, but there's no shove this time. "Zach, just… I like it."

But the kisses are softer, and it's annoying. Which Chris is certain Zach doesn't mean them to be. "It's just us," he tries. "Just like before—"

And that's an absolute halt. Zach pulls back. He turns his face away, chest still rising and falling too quickly. Chris stays where he is against the wall, fear and confusion joining the irritation. He tries to push it all away, knows he's being irrational, but he can't help the half-breathless words, "You obviously want to. I don't understand."

"Chris…" He's shaking his head, but it's jerky; not exasperation though.

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying it. If someone convinced you there was—" Chris would like to punch that person "—they were wrong."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it? Zach, come on." He reaches out, just wanting to reassure with touch, but Zach pulls away. Chris swallows back the hurt, takes his hand back. "I just want to understand what's going on. If you only want to do it at a club, we can do that."

It takes way too long for Zach to respond, and when he does it's hoarse. "Maybe you should go."

Chris stares at him, his lips parted inelegantly. "I should _go_? Are you serious?" His voice is a hoarse match to Zach's. "You're kicking me out?"

Zach finally looks at him, eyes bright like they were in Berlin. And it makes Chris' anger fizzle. "No. I'm not—" The words are a struggle. "I'm not, I Just... I'm sorry."

He has no idea if it's an apology for the maybe you should go comment, or for his inability to dominate Chris like he clearly wants to. Either way, it doesn't help.

"I thought it would be okay," Zach goes on haltingly when Chris says nothing. "But I understand if you…" He makes a gesture and Chris understands exactly what it means.

But how much of an asshole would he be if he walked out right now?

Just because their personal kinks don't align? At least not in any tangible way.

Pretty much he would be the biggest asshole in the world.

"I told you," he says, and hopes he sounds sincere, "it's not about the sex."

"But…" Zach takes a big breath, and doesn't finish the thought.

"I like subbing. I can't just turn that off. But it's not a problem, I promise." He's lying through his teeth. "I'm sorry I pushed." Because no matter what, that's not okay. "I won't do it again."

"No, don't. You don't have to apologize."

But really Chris does. He feels like a jerk. "Yeah, I do. You already told me your boundaries. I'm really sorry."

Again Zach looks like he wants to say something, but instead he steps into Chris' space, pulls him close and Chris sighs into his neck without really meaning to. Zach's a good hugger. And when he turns his head, Zach's there with a kiss too. But all the heat from before is gone.

Zach, it seems, feels the same way. He squeezes him tighter, says into his ear, "Do you want to watch Jeannie with us?"

"Us?"

"Me and Noah. He gets excited every time Roger shows up."

Chris smiles, ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest. "Sure."

His ear is kissed and then Zach, seemingly content with the change of plans, tugs him toward the bedroom, Noah at their heels. Not that Chris objects. Zach's bed, with a side of cold dog nose and old tv, sounds great.

Putting all the sex stuff aside, he and Zach are a good fit.

They're compatible with the sex stuff too. Or, at least they were when they were strangers.

More than ever, Chris wishes he had never gone that night. Ignorance, in this case, really would have been bliss.


	24. Trust Falls

"I think you're just confused."

Chris glances to his left, where Zach is half-propped against the headboard, rubbing Noah's ear between his fingers and watching the opening credits of _I Dream of Jeannie_. "What?" He must have missed something. "Sorry. Confused about what?"

Zach squints at the tv, fingers busy with the furry ears; it takes a minute before he answers, " The sex thing. Subbing."

Chris can't connect the dots. He's pretty sure he heard wrong. "What?"

Zach inhales slowly. "What you said before. About liking to sub for people."

"Um… okay?" His heart rate picks up, but not in a good way. Because why exactly is he confused? "Why am I confused?"

Zach's still not looking at him, gaze focused on the television. "That night. It happened, and I think it's confusing your feelings."

Chris really wants to turn off the tv, or at least ask Zach to look at him. Maybe nudge Noah out from in between them. But it's probably easier this way. "Do you mean my feelings about you?" he asks, feeling like he's got something squeezing his diaphragm. "I told you—"

"I know," Zach interrupts calmly and Chris wonders if he realizes how patronizing his tone is. "Not that. Your feelings about wanting to sub."

Chris is about to reiterate that he has no idea what is happening in this conversation, but Zach goes on in the same calm voice, "I mean, it's okay. I get it. I was having the same problem. It's not exactly the same, I know, but—"

"Zach."

He stops mid-word, lips still parted as Chris moves over. It unseats Noah from his sprawl, but the dog simply jumps over Zach and off the bed. Zach's face is lit oddly, cut across by the patterns from the television screen. Chris mutes the sound. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, and it sounds loud without the laughter in the background. "What do you think I'm confused about?"

Zach's eyes dart away briefly, but they come back again when Chris' hand settles on his thigh; Chris wishes he could read minds.

"We didn't know each other." Zach licks his lips. "So it was okay. But it's different now."

Chris is starting to understand. "It would still be okay. It's better for me, actually. That's why I didn't go back after that night."

Zach tenses. "But you said... I thought you liked it."

"I did." Chris massages the muscle beneath his palm. "But it's…" He can feel his face warming up, which is stupid. Except it's not beyond the realm of possibility that Zach will think he's lame. "I like… coming down from the high afterward," he admits. "With someone. The contact… everything. It's nice."

Zach is studying him, no derision in his face. He looks upset though, but Chris just lets him process. "So, you weren't really okay," he eventually says, nodding a little too sharply.

"No, I was," Chris assures him, although he doubts it's very effective. "I knew what I was doing. One of my exes said I should try it at least once. So, I just did. Just to see."

Another nod, no more promising than the first. "I'm sorry."

"Hey—" Chris shuffles closer, takes up one of his hands, rests them both on Zach's stomach. "—don't be. I definitely enjoyed it. I'm just saying. It can be great when you're with someone you care about. And… I don't know," he add with a self-conscious shrug, "I just really like the after stuff." Too much probably. Or so it always seems.

Zach studies his face for a moment longer and then he give his hand a tug. "Come here," he says quietly. Surprised but willing, Chris lets him rearrange them until he's tucked so close he can feel the echo of Zach's heartbeat.

He wants to tell him he's fine, reassure him again. And they should probably talk more, but he likes the feel of Zach's arms around him too much to risk disturbing it.

\---

They go to their first training session the following afternoon. With the exception of Zoe and Rachel, the rest of the main cast is there as well—and a bunch of the guys playing Romulans.

They don't mention their new relationship status, and no one seems to notice either way. Or care, probably. And Chris is fine with that.

They all go out to dinner together. And to some club afterward, where Chris wonders if he can get Zach to dance with him.

Zoe and Rachel meet them there. Zoe makes a beeline for Chris, who gets hugged soundly.

"Um, hi?" he mumbles around her hair, not sure what he's done to warrant such enthusiasm.

But then Zach gets a hug too and a huffed, "I told you, didn't I?"

So, fine, he understands. Vaguely, anyway. Although he has no idea when Zach talked to her. But Zach's smiling, and that's what Chris cares about. He likes to watch Zach when they're in a group now that all the shit from before is behind them.

He still lights up the room. But now, some of that happiness is reserved for Chris. Even as he talks to Zoe and the guy she brought with her, Zach's hand stays warm on Chris' hip, fingers occasionally skimming beneath his shirt.

It's a crowded place, but dark enough that it doesn't matter. Zoe and her guy—Chris can't remember his name—move off to the dance floor after awhile and Chris is pulled against Zach's side. "Do you want to dance?" he asks, words brushing his ear.

"Yeah," he answers with a slow smile. And if it makes his pulse jump, and his cock happy, well, who can blame him.

He goes where he's led, Zach weaving through the crowd until he finds a dark corner. And this time, when he tugs, Chris slides against him so he can appreciate how hard Zach is already.

His breathless appreciation is swallowed up by Zach's mouth. They move in time to the low beat for several songs, Chris taking his cue from Zach, their dicks grinding slowly together until Chris might actually be panting.

Zach just pulls him closer, hands cupping his ass. "Zach…"

"Yeah," Zach agrees, breathless and half at a moan himself.

He kisses him again, thrusts once more so that Chris gasps, "Fuck…"

Zach's lips catch gently at his earlobe. "Do you wanna go?"

Chris manages a nod but they stay pressed together, until Zach lets his breath out and then they part reluctantly and navigate their way back to their table. Slowly, to give them both time to cool off.

They're flushed and sweaty, but no one seems to pick up on it when they settle their bill at the table where Karl and Simon are arguing about phasers, like the good nerds they are. Everyone else is too busy getting drunk.

Zoe and her boyfriend are presumably still on the dance floor.

They say quick goodbyes. Their departure, however, is waylaid by an exuberant—and possibly tipsy—shout, "Chris!"

They both turn, Chris smiling in greeting when he sees the small group milling near the bar. Henry—the shouter—breaks away, crossing the crowded space quickly and pulling Chris in for a hug before he can prepare for it. He manages to keep his crotch out of contact range and hopes the lingering erection isn't noticed.

"God, it's been forever," Henry says, still grinning as he pulls back. "How are you? Brent and Millie are here." Without giving Chris a chance to reply, he sticks a hand out to Zach. "Henry Moll, Chris and I used to go out. Hold on." Back to Chris again. "I'll go find them."

And with that he's gone, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. At least it is on Chris' end. "Sorry," he says, grimacing, but Zach shrugs.

"It's fine."

"I'll get us out of here in a second," he promises.

"Don't worry about it."

It's only the hand, which finds its way to his lower back, that gives Chris a clue that Zach's not entirely unbothered. And also his casual, "So, you used to go out with him?"

"A long time ago, but yeah."

"You're still friends?"

"Um, well, we talk sometimes. Not very often." Once in the last six months. An impromptu lunch during which Henry suggested the super secret sex club. And just in case he brings it up—in code though it would be, because Brent and Millie are the most vanilla couple around—he adds, "Um. He's the one who suggested the club. I didn't tell him any details," he rushes to say when Zach's eyebrows try to leap off his forehead. "I actually never told him I went so—"

"Oh my god, Chris!" And in comes Millie, all smiles. She looks like she's pregnant, but Chris doesn't ask. He just accepts her quick hug, the thump from Brent as well. "How are you?"

"Have you started filming Star Trek yet?" Henry asks, reaching over to flick Chris' chest with the back of his hand. "This guy is Captain Kirk," he says to the other two. "Can you believe that?"

They can't, it seems. Since they were of the opinion that he would be stuck in Disney hell for many years to come.

"Oh, shut up," Henry shushes them. "Don't listen to them, Chris. I knew you would do it. Fuck, I'm so happy for you." He jostles Chris a little, grinning and ending up with an arm slung over his shoulders. And definitely a little drunk.

Millie notices Zach then, her eyes going wide. "Oh my god," she says, fingers flying to her lips. "Are you Sylar?"

Zach smiles politely enough as he introduces himself.

"He's Spock," Henry chimes in, patting Chris happily on the back now and Chris takes the opportunity to carefully shift out of range of another shoulder sling. "Kirk and Spock. Just, wow, man."

Millie drags a friend over to the group, so they can gush over Sylar together. Zach takes it with good grace, even signing a napkin for the friend. He's quiet though, where usually he's the outgoing one in every group.

His eyes keep flicking to Henry.

When they finally extract themselves, he stays quiet. In the car, he runs his fingers up and down Chris' leg while Chris drives them toward Zach's place. Chris smiles over at him, in the glow from the dashboard.

"That was fun. Dancing" he clarifies, and gets to enjoy the little smile Zach aims his way before he has to actually watch the road. "We should do that more often."

"We should." Zach's fingers run along the seam of his jeans, eventually curling around his knee, a favorite spot. And when they park a few minutes later, Zach comes around to his side of the car and presses him up against the door, kissing him deeply.

Which is… new. Not that Chris is complaining. It doesn't last long enough for his liking. "Let's go upstairs," Zach murmurs into his jaw, "so I can fuck you."

Chris just makes an undignified sound.

Zach smiles into his skin, slides away; tangles their fingers together and they manage to make it into his apartment before Zach crowds him against the wall. He gets his shirt off, making Chris huff in surprise as it's pulled roughly over his head before he's back to the kissing again. It goes on so long, Chris has to turn his face away to gulp in a lungful of air.

Undeterred, Zach moves to his neck. "So, I was thinking," he says between breaths, "if you want… we could try it. If you want."

Chris' hands still where they've been roaming beneath Zach's shirt. His dick is in immediate agreement. His brain, on the other hand, seems to have stopped functioning, which is probably why he can't think why it's a terrible idea.


	25. Catch

"You need a safeword," Zach tells him, right at that spot beneath Chris' ear that Zach _knows_ makes him crazy.

"OK," he agrees, breathless, although he knows there's something else he should be saying. Zach's lips find his again, and again, Chris' brain stutters out, opens to the demanding tongue—the hint of teeth he rarely gets to feel.

"Same one?" Zach asks, quick between kisses. And that brings Chris' brain back online. Because that's why they can't do this. They've already done it once before, to disastrous results. That fact that Zach remembers his safeword… he'll worry about that later.

He pulls his head back, hands solid on Zach's chest as he breathes, "Wait…"

Zach stops moving. His chest is heaving, but he lifts his eyes to find Chris'. But Chris doesn't know how to start this particular conversation, or even if his worry is legitimate. Shouldn't he just let Zach do what he wants?

And that's Chris' dick talking for him again.

"Did I…" Zach's eyes are uncertain now, the glint of excitement fading. "I thought…"

Chris is still trying to will his lungs to cooperate. He draws in a ragged breath. "Is this about Henry?"

The startled expression is a pretty definitive yes. Chris lets his head fall against the wall, more space between them so he can see Zach's face more clearly, the guilt and uncertainty that's quickly crowding in.

Chris almost wants to be annoyed. But that would be dickish, so he loops an arm around Zach's waist. "There's nothing between us," he says quietly.

But Zach shakes his head; his hands slips upward, off Chris' ass and back to his waist. "I know. He's not why."

Chris tilts his head, disbelieving. "He's not?"

"No." Zach's thumb is soothing as it sweeps over skin, and Chris wonders if he's doing it on purpose. "You did stuff with him, right? You must have, if he knew about that club—"

"But this is not about him," Chris cuts in, words dripping in irony, and maybe that's not appropriate, but fuck it, he is annoyed. But when Zach's eyes drop away, he regrets his tone. He should be encouraging discussion. "I subbed for him, yeah."

Zach nods, his teeth running over his bottom lip. "And you obviously…"

In the name of patience, Chris dips a hand beneath his collar. Zach looks up again, but he takes another few seconds.

"You liked it," he says. "With him?"

It's a landmine, but Chris answers truthfully, "Yeah."

"And that's not why… you broke up?"

"No…" Everything feels like a landmine, one Chris is learning to navigate rather well, considering. "Someone broke up with you because you wanted to play? Who was it? Because I'd like to punch him in the nose."

That makes Zach smile briefly. "It wasn't… just that. I mean, probably eventually, but—"

"What did he say to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Zach tells him, his gaze firmly planted over Chris' shoulder. "It made things too weird, you know?" His nose wrinkles up and Chris has a strange urge to kill everyone who's ever hurt him. "It was uncomfortable, later, when we weren't playing. Awkward, and maybe that's because I'm not good at the after part, but me being this way. It just made things… difficult."

There's a quiver in his voice. Chris pushes off the wall, sliding arms around his neck to pull him close, and thinks he'll be forever grateful that Zach hugs him back.

He draws in a shaky breath; his stubble is scratching Chris' ear. "I just don't want to... I don't want us…"

"I know," Chris mumbles. "We wouldn't though. I'm not asking, but we wouldn't. And you're not bad at the after part." Technically, he has no proof, but Zach is affectionate after sex; seems to always like to be touching if he can.

"I might be."

"Did he tell you that too?"

Zach doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. "Did you ever think that maybe this guy was just a jerk?"

He thinks Zach won't answer, but he does, quiet, "I don't know."

"He was a jerk." And maybe they weren't compatible. Cautiously, Chris ventures, "I promise I'm not pushing, but if you ever want to try it… we can. And if we don't like it, that's okay too."

Zach breathes in and out. He doesn't reply, but Chris wasn't expecting him to. In the quiet, Chris can hear Noah whining from the laundry room. "Do you want to go rescue the puppy?"

"I probably should, yeah."

"Go," Chris says. "Rescue."

Noah whines again. Zach sighs and pulls back. "Be right back." His fingers drag across Chris' skin as he pulls away.

He takes forever with Noah. Long enough that Harold actually comes out of hiding. He winds himself once around Chris' ankles before disappearing again.

When Zach reappears, he's got Noah on a leash. "I'm just going to take him quickly."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No, it's all right. It'll just take a second."

So maybe he needs a minute. Chris is good with that. "OK."

Zach smiles at him before he ducks out.

Chris scoops his shirt off the floor, shrugs back into it and goes to wait in the living room. Zach's books are in there—some of them, anyway. He smiles when he finds _Watership Down_ , the book they bonded over on the plane from Berlin. It's the same edition as his own, just as well-loved.

He lets it fall open as it will, smile widening as he sees notes in the margins. He reads one of the underlined sections: _A thing can be true, and still be desperate folly, Hazel._

Chris' finger rubs over the words, wondering how old Zach was when he found them so important. Wonders if they're still important now. In the way that words sometimes stay with you, echoing in your blood.

The front door opens, and Chris slips the book back into its place. Noah comes in first, shaking the fresh air off, excited to greet Chris with kisses. Chris rumples his ears in return.

Zach comes in next, and distracts Noah with food. Harold shows up again, allows Zach to pet him for a few seconds before he's more interested in his own dish. Zach straightens up, starts a little when Chris wraps arms around him from behind. He relaxes a second later, fingers settling over Chris'.

"Miss me?" he asks. Chris squeezes him.

"I was promised a fucking."

Zach's breath of laughter warms Chris through. He could be happy hearing that every day.


	26. incompatible: (adj.) mismatched, unsuited, unable to coexist

They have a good routine. Training in the mornings for Trek. Lunch breaks with one or two others, rarely on their own. Another training session before dinner. And then it's back to one of their apartments for the night.

For sex, with a side of restraint.

They don't talk about the other stuff. It's good though. Being with Zach is good. The sadomasochistic sex is not something he needs. It's good.

"You're quiet."

Zach is brushing idle fingers over his back while Chris uses his chest as a pillow. It's dark, not as dark as he prefers it; they're at Zach's place.

"Mm."

"Any particular reason?" Zach asks. "Tired?"

They've been training hard for nearly a week, so yeah, he could claim fatigue without really lying. So he does. Zach kisses the top of his head. "You should sleep."

Chris hums his agreement with that plan, even though he feels little pull toward sleep. He doesn't bother closing his eyes; figures Zach will fall asleep soon. Zach's breathing doesn't even out though; his fingers are still roaming, and if anything, his heartbeat seems to be picking up. So Chris says, "You're not sleeping either."

"I'm not really tired."

Chris props himself up to squint at him in the semi-darkness. He looks way too alert for this close to midnight. And as he skims his fingers over the swell of Chris' ass, Chris understands why. He smiles slowly, not at all opposed to a second round. He wasn't all that satisfied with the first, to be honest.

He pushes up to kiss him, enjoying the possessive hand that grips his ass. Wants more of that.

Not that the first go wasn't good, just sometimes…

"Can I ride you?" The words are out before he considers them. Zach looks surprised, but he's nodding almost immediately, his fingers gripping his own cock to stroke himself hard; although... he was halfway there already, which Chris thinks he should have noticed sooner.

"Lube," Zach says shortly, and Chris turns to scrabble in the bedside table, grabs a condom as well and slides it on before Zach can reach for it. He slathers the lube on top, liking the way it makes Zach's breath hitch.

He scrambles up, but Zach catches at his waist. "Wait," he says quickly, "let me—"

"No, I'm fine," Chris cuts him off, steadies himself on Zach's chest. "I don't need any fingers." He's loose from before and besides, he just _needs_ this. He doesn't give Zach a chance to protest, sinks down on him with a cry of both pleasure and pain. Not quite loose enough but _fuck_ does that feel right.

Zach grips at his hips to steady him, but Chris barely notices. He's rocking up and down on Zach's dick; finally the way he wants, as deep and fast as he wants. "Oh god, oh god," he moans through the initial burn, wants more of that. Wants to be filled, balls deep, Zach's dick slamming into him without restraint.

It's not quite the same this way, not as good. But he closes his eyes, grunting as he imagines what it would feel like; if Zach would just squeeze a little harder, mark his hips, make him be still while he fucked into him.

And when Zach's fingers do tighten, Chris sucks in a harsh breath and opens his eyes. Zach's jaw is taut, straining, while Chris fucks himself, but it's his eyes, hungry and dark, that make Chris slam down so fast that they both gasp.

" _Chris_."

He nods jerkily, tries to say what he wants but he just ends up pushing down sharply again and this time Zach meets him, hard enough that Chris' teeth rattle together. There's a moment, slow and agonizing where Zach freezes, but Chris shakes his head, desperate now. "Again," he rasps. "I need… fuck me, _please_. "

He doesn't know if it's the way he's grinding down or the begging, but Zach catches Chris' dick, squeezes roughly and thrusts his hips up again. Chris gasps, wants to tell him he's not ready to come yet, wants to draw it out. What he really wants is for Zach to shove him off and hold him down while he fucks him without mercy.

None of that happens. Zach jerks his dick skillfully, and in just a matter of seconds, it's over, his cum pulsing in bursts over Zach's fingers.

Zach comes too, breathless and gasping, hips jerking erratically. Chris clenches for him and enjoys the moan it elicits. It wasn't what Chris wanted. Good enough, though. At least he's tired now.

And when he has Zach curled up behind him afterward, he knows he can live with it.

\---

When he wakes up, Zach isn't there. The immediate worry that he's been ditched is discarded just as quickly. This is Zach's bed, after all.

He pushes the covers off and stretches, cracking through a yawn as well while he fumbles for his sweats and looks at the time: almost 2 o'clock.

He checks the bathroom; no luck. Tries the living room next, and there he is, curled up in the corner of the couch, watching muted informercials with Noah, who's fast asleep on the floor.

He looks up at Chris' approach, and it's easy to make out his grimace in the glow from the TV. "Did I wake you up?" he asks as he straightens. "I couldn't sleep."

Chris shakes his head, pausing to give Noah's belly a scritch before nudging Zach to turn sideways and then he squeezes in the space between his legs. It takes a bit of maneuvering but eventually there are knees on either side of him and Zach's arms firmly around his chest. There is no protest, so Chris takes that as permission and settles back into the warmth.

Neither of them can see the tv this way, but Chris doesn't think Zach was actually watching anyway.

"You okay?" he eventually asks.

Zach turns one of Chris' hands over, fingers cradling it into a curl. "That wasn't what you wanted," he says quietly.

The immediate urge is to deny it, or claim ignorance. He goes for omission. "Hey, I had two orgasms. Not exactly something to complain about."

It's quiet while Zach closes his fingers into a fist, straightens them again and then brushes the tips over Chris' knuckles. "I could see it in your face. How much you like it."

Chris nods, not sure what else to do.

"I know you said it's not a problem—"

"It's not."

"Not yet," Zach agrees while Chris' chest squeezes. "Eventually, it might be."

"I've been in other relationships without the sadomasochism." It's not a good sign that Zach tenses at the word. "I don't mind."

"You don't _mind_?" Zach echoes, a bite behind the sardonic lilt. "Just what a guy likes to hear."

Just like people like to hear that they'll never have the kind of sex they like best. "It wasn't the best way to phrase it," Chris admits, ignoring his own flare of irritation.

Zach inhales softly, pulls him a little closer; an apology, maybe. They're quiet for a few minutes. "I'm just not sure we see it in the same way."

This again. "I'm not confused," he says firmly, keeping his tone just on the right side of everything is fine.

"Yeah," Zach exhales. "It's just… I'm not sure it… seems right."

Chris tries to hear what he's really saying below the low rumble of unease and thinks that this is not really about a shitty ex-boyfriend. Not only, anyway. "It's just between you and me," he says, trying to match Zach's hushed timber; to soothe away the unease. "If it's something we both want, it's right." He can feel the rapid pulse in Zach's wrist, his breaths as they warm Chris' neck. "Is it?" Chris asks into the quiet. "Something you think you might ever want? If it's not, it's fine," he adds hastily. "But if you don't, we don't have to talk about it again. Unless you want to."

He feels like a broken record.

Zach's words, when they come, are muffled in his neck, "I don't know."

Chris takes that for what it is: progress. He squashes the little thrill of triumph, because that's not what this is. "Is it just the circumstances?"

Zach makes a noise of confusion, and Chris thinks that's fair. He's not sure himself what he means. "Because we're in bed together," he clarifies.

He doesn't mean that to be offensive, but he can feel the stiffness building in Zach's muscles. "Because I only do that in clubs," he says, a bitter agreement.

It might actually be progress if Zach would use the words. "I didn't mean—"

"No, you're right," Zach breezes over the apology. "It's like Pavlov's dogs, right? And it's even harder with you because we were actually in a club together, and I can't stop thinking of you that way."

It's a lot, more than he's ever said in one breath about this. But it also might be a revelation. "Well," Chris says, cautious, "maybe that's the problem. Maybe you shouldn't try to stop yourself from seeing me that way. As the sub you fucked that night. We both liked it."

The minute tightening of Zach's arms, and the dick announcing its presence against his lower back, tells him everything he needs to know. "Maybe…" He hesitates but Zach's just breathing, waiting. "… if you think you might like to try it again, we could. I can book another private room."

His heart is beating an erratic tattoo against his ribs. Zach's palm presses into the muscles directly over it; like he can calm it that way. "OK," he whispers, and that, Chris thinks, might actually be a victory.

\---

Zach is quiet the next day, but Chris figures he's processing, which is good. Their morning jog, another part of their new routine, doesn't require much talking. And as soon as they're done, he has to leave anyway, for a meeting before their training session.

"See you later," he says, going in for a kiss at Zach's door. Zach's sort of stiff about it. Chris gets it; doesn't push.

When they meet again at their training session—just them today—he's still being weird though. The trainer tells him twice he needs to find his focus.

When they head in for showers, Chris wants to steer clear of heavy topics so he asks, "Do you feel like going out to dinner tonight?" Something relaxing, doesn't even need to include any sex afterward. Just a night spent together seems like just the thing to get Zach out of his head. "There's this new place I want to try. All organic, fair trade, all the good stuff you like."

"Oh." Zach glances at him, looks away again. "I, uh, um… actually…" They're in the locker room, completely alone, but his eyes dart around, like he's checking to be certain.

"You okay?" Chris ventures. He's doing that thing where he wraps his torso in his arms, but at least his bouncing gaze settles.

"This probably isn't the best place…"

Inwardly, Chris sighs, so he's proud of his easy tone, "It's okay, you know. I booked the room." He even managed to score the same one. "Ten, tomorrow night, but we don't have to go—"

"I talked to my therapist."

Chris' words halt. He can feel his face broadcasting his confusion. "I didn't know you had a therapist."

Zach nods. His words are tight, measured, veering too close to the patronizing tone that Chris is really beginning to loathe, "For years, yeah."

"Oh."

"He thinks it might be kinder to you to let you go."

Chris feels frozen. He wants his mouth to be moving; to say something, but it won't cooperate.

"I don't know," Zach goes on steadily, "if he's right."

"You don't _know_?" Chris finds his words, but they don't sound quite right. "You don't _know_ if you should follow your therapist's advice to break up with me?"

Another quick little nod; like they're in a business meeting. "I'm just afraid we're not compatible. Sexually…"

As if Chris needed that clarification. "I already told you—"

"I know. But what if it turns out that I don't want to do that with you?"

"Then we just don't _do_ it. Jesus Christ, Zach, I told you, I don't care about the sex."

"You do care. You will care. If we're not compatible, isn't it better to find that out now, instead—"

"Instead of what, Zach?" Chris cuts in sharply. "Waiting until you care about me so much that it actually hurts to lose me? Like it already feels for me? Is that what you're trying to avoid?"

"Chris…" Zach takes a breath, like he's trying to steady himself, but it's Chris who's tilted off his axis. "I'm just saying. Maybe if we just think about it. Take some time—"

"You know what, Zach?" Chris cuts him off again, voice tightly controlled this time so he doesn't scream. "You go ahead and do that. Take all the fucking time you need, but if you're expecting me to wait around for you to get your head out of your ass, you're delusional."

He grabs his bag from the bench, not waiting for a reply. Not that he expects one. Zach doesn't even try to stop him.


	27. In a Room Full of Shadows

Zach doesn't call him that night. Doesn't text. Doesn't show up unannounced at Chris' door.

And by the time his alarm buzzes—after exactly two hours of sleep—he's come to terms with the fact that Zach took his therapist's advice.

He begs off the training session, claiming stomach flu. No one wants stomach flu. The trainer tells him to keep hydrated.

Chris stays in bed instead and tries to remember what it felt like not to be in love with Zachary Quinto.

Damn his sister for being right.

By the afternoon, he still hasn't moved. We wonders if Zach's having fun working out with the rest of the guys, if he's effusive like he usually is; or if he's quiet like he was yesterday while he mulled over his therapists' advice.

What the hell kind of therapist tells someone to break up with their perfectly nice boyfriend?

The kind that thinks they're incompatible. And it might even be a valid concern. So maybe Zach was right. And if it didn't hurt so much, Chris might give that more thought.

As it is, he sleeps through most of the evening, woken finally by his phone ringing. He jerks up, batting at the bed stupidly while he tries to find it. He finally does, when it's on its last ring. The buzz of anticipation twists into disappointment. It's just his sister.

He shoves the phone under his pillow and flops back on the bed, heart hammering unpleasantly. Of course it wasn't Zach.

Zach is probably enjoying a night out with Cho and the others, probably dancing with someone who won't push him for a relationship, or trot around at his heels for weeks like a sycophant.

He's probably found someone he can fuck and discard; just what he likes.

The thought makes Chris feel sick.

He squeezes his shirt in his hands, trying to push the images away. Zach shoving someone else against the wall, ordering them to be still while his hand thuds mercilessly at their ass. Holding someone else down while he fucks into them.

All the things Chris wanted. All the things they were supposed to do at the club tonight.

He still has the reservation.

Maybe if he goes, lets someone else beat him… maybe then he'll feel better.

Physical pain, the feel of someone fucking into him without having to worry about the other person's feelings later. Maybe Zach is on to something there.

It can just be about what Chris wants for once. None of this bullshit about compatibility and rights and wrongs. Just fun. Just sex, without restraint.

With Zach, the whole thing probably would have ended with more recriminations. With someone else, he can let go, just like the first time. When Zach was just a stranger. That's what he needs. Someone he doesn't care about, to rough him up and fuck him until he begs for mercy.

A good hard fuck so that he can forget about everything else.

He gets out of bed before he can change his mind, showering thoroughly. He takes his time with grooming, combing his hair and shaving.

He'll have to tell the dom nothing above the neck. But he's not sure it matters now. Filming starts soon, but who knows what Zach will think of his participation now. God help him if Zach's therapist gets involved.

Except Chris is pretty sure he doesn't give a damn about Trek. Let Zach kick him out for good this time. Chris doesn't care. Tonight is for a second round of anonymous sex; the first gave him good fantasy material for months. Trek, and everyone involved with it, can just go fuck themselves. Including Zach.

Who's probably fucking someone else right now.

His stomach lurches again, but he ignores it, tells himself firmly that it's better this way, and gets on with it.

-o-

The second time, it's different. Easier to find his way through the dimly lit corridors of the club, not as shocking to weave his way through the naked bodies in various stages of fucking.

Henry suggested this place. He's been coming here for years. Chris wonders as he goes in, if maybe he should have just asked Henry to fuck him into oblivion. He almost certainly would have obliged.

But he doesn't want complicated. He wants sex, nothing else.

Following the same protocol as last time, he goes into the dark room; leaves the door open to let a dom know he's available. And then he undresses, puts his clothes aside and shakes out his limbs, trying to work out the nerves coiling his muscles before he kneels in the middle of the floor.

It's too dark to really see much. But that might change. Some doms like to see everything. Others, like Zach—

He clamps down on that train of thought. Zach's over; as much as possible if Chris is still stuck doing Trek. The sex stuff though, that's definitely over. The rest—

He shakes his head, grits his teeth hard so that pain blossoms along his jaw. It helps to focus his mind on whatever is about to happen. He needs this to be good. Needs to be fucked until he can't think anymore.

And that will happen if he's good. He concentrates on his posture, flexes his hands once more before settling them at his lower back, fingers interlocked; heels just touching his ass. He keeps his head low and his eyes trained at the floor.

When he hears footsteps drawing near, Chris' heart jumps. He doesn't make a noise though, ignores the impulse to look up. There's a little rectangle of red, dusty light on the floor; from the hallway.

Enough that the dom can see if he approves of what's presented before him. Chris waits for an order to raise his head; in case the dom wants to approve of his face too. No orders come.

The door closes softly, and the darkness fades in again.

Chris strains to listen, hears footsteps drawing close. Circling as the dom takes a path around him. He's wearing shoes, at least. He's probably one of those doms who likes to at least start out fully-clothed. Which is fine by Chris. He likes it better that way, likes the way it makes him feel vulnerable.

Usually it does. Right now, he feels jittery; raw. Too exposed. He tries to remember if it felt this way that night with Zach, but he can't.

The dom moves closer, and Chris jerks a little, startled as a hand settles in his hair. Zach didn't touch him like that. Not until his safeword was given, until they were really playing.

Chris' stomach shrinks. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe he's not ready. The dom's fingers are carding lightly and the urge to move away hits Chris unexpectedly. He opens his mouth to call a halt, even though they haven't begun.

But the dom's voice rumbles in the darkness, "Safeword?"

Chris almost jerks his head up. His heart starts pounding so hard it echoes against his eardrums.

It's Zach.


	28. Stars Beneath Our Feet

_He has to know, he has to know_.

That's the mantra marching through Chris' brain as he blinks at the shadowy floor. There's hardly any light, but Zach _has_ to know it's him. But what if he doesn't know, what if he came here for the same reason that Chris did—to forget?

To fuck a random stranger.

The thought makes him cold all over.

It can't be though. He knew the time. Chris told him. Even if that's why he came initially, they're here now. Together. And Chris wants this. He whispers his safeword.

Zach repeats it, just like he did the first time they did this. His fingers clench at Chris' hair, making him wince. "No talking," Zach says quietly. "Not unless I say." A pause, and the fist tightens. "Understood?"

Chris jerks a nod.

He can hear Zach exhaling slowly. The hand unclenches, and Chris' scalp tingles with phantom pressure as Zach moves behind him. "Stand up."

Unsteadily, Chris obeys. His limbs feel heavy. Zach grips the back of his neck, clamping down hard and Chris sucks in a breath. The fingers tighten, nails digging in and then he's shoved toward the wall. He stumbles, catches himself with his palms. He wants to look back, see what Zach looks like like this, but he hasn't been given permission to look. And if Zach doesn't know—he _has_ to know.

Zach presses up against him then, making his focus scatter; pushes him into the wall. Hot breath at Chris' ear, low words that make him shiver, "Keep your hands on that wall, got that? Your face too. Don't move until I tell you."

Chris nods quickly, so that Zach will know he understands. Doesn't have to tell him things twice.

"Your face," Zach snaps and it startles him enough that he almost twists around, but a firm hand between his shoulder blades stops him. "Get your face against the wall."

Chris flattens himself against it, forehead breaking out in a sweat. His palms are getting slippery as well, but he does what he's told. Holds still, wants Zach to know how good he can be.

Zach's hand slides down his back, over the swell of his ass. "If you move, this ends," he says and then without any warning, he raises his hand and brings it down sharply. Chris hisses at the unexpected sting, has no time to prepare for the next one.

He keeps going until Chris is arching into it,. And then fingernails are scraping down his back and Chris bucks, not expecting it. But he likes that too, likes it ever better when Zach slaps him again, right over the trails scored down his thigh.

He feels like he's drunk.

He can feel Zach's dick, insistent at his ass. He wants it, doesn't mean to press back into it. Zach stills, and Chris has a moment of panic that he's fucked up. But Zach is up against him in the next second, his clothes dragging rough across tender skin. "You're all scratched up," Zach tells him. "You look pretty like that, but you want more, don't you?"

Chris nods dizzily.

Zach's fingers circle one of his wrists and then his arm is wrenched back, pressed into his back. Chris makes a strangled noise. Zach says something, but Chris' head is so buzzy, he can't decipher it. He just wants Zach's dick inside him. He struggles a little against the hold, trying to angle his ass a little higher; Zach's thumb slips between his cheeks, caress stopping just shy of his hole.

"I think you want to be fucked," Zach says softly. "Is that what you want?"

He tries to nod, and it must be enough. Zach kicks his legs apart, grabs his hips and gives him a sharp tug. He tries to scrabble at the wall. His face is hot, his throbbing ass just hanging out there in the air. The marks on his back and thighs feel like they're on fire.

"That's better," Zach breathes. "Just like that." He swats at Chris' balls swinging between his legs, and Chris jerks. "You like that?" He does it again, harder, making Chris grit his teeth on a plea for more.

Zach fondles his sac, squeezes lightly. He lets go of Chris' wrist. "Hold yourself open for me," he rasps. Chris hesitates, not sure he can keep himself upright like that.

Zach takes his hip, slaps at his balls again. "Do it. I've got you."

With trembling hands, Chris does as he's told. His face is so hot, it feels like it might burn off. Zach is silent while Chris presents his asshole like an offering.

He's still got him by the balls, fingers curled like a warning. And then he pushes his thumb into Chris' hole and Chris moans. It's slick, and maybe it's just sweat or Zach's own spit—he has no idea. He doesn't care; he pushes into it and that earns him another sharp slap.

"I told you not to move." The thumb withdraws, circles his hole. "Should we stop?"

Wildly, Chris shakes his head.

"If you can't follow a simple direction…" Zach scrapes his teeth along Chris' shoulder. "I can leave you here for awhile… come back when you're ready to be good." A pause while he lets that sink in. "Is that what you want?"

Another rough shake of his head and then Chris stays absolutely still, the muscles in his arms and shoulders burning as he stays in position.

Zach's teeth close gently around the curve of his shoulder. "That's better." Zach's hand squeezes his ass, digs into the raw skin and Chris hisses, but he stays still. "Good boy," Zach whispers into his ear.

Tears prick Chris' eyes at the praise. Zach has to know. The thought of him complimenting someone else in that tone—

Zach thumb pushes in again, and Chris closes his eyes and nearly loses his grip on his ass.

"I wonder if you could take my dick without any prep," Zach says, in that lower register again, nearly a growl. "I think you can. I think you want to."

Chris doesn't move, wants Zach to choose. He wants to take it, whatever Zach will give him.

The thumb pushes in and out; thoughtfully. "Yeah," he finally mutters. "We'll do that."

He finally releases Chris' balls, leans forward to slide his fingers along Chris' dick. Gives it a sharp tug and then lets it slap back against his stomach, where it leaves a sticky patch.

He can hear Zach's zip as its undone, the pull of fabric being pushed out of the way. The crinkle of a condom packet too. And then firm hands find Chris' hips again.

Chris holds his breath, legs tensing up. Breath stuttering out again when he feels Zach's cock pushing in. Not all the way; just the head, but Chris' heart beat picks up; he's gripping his ass so hard, it hurts.

"Hands on the wall," Zach orders, gravelly and low. Chris' arms feel like jelly as he obeys. As soon as he does, Zach thrusts in the rest of the way. Chris' fingers scratch at the smooth wall, trying to find purchase. Zach plants an arm across his back, keeping him upright; making him take it.

It burns every time he pulls out. The tears are gathering again in Chris' eyes, but he bites his lip to keep them from spilling over, pushes back to keep the burn constant and just lets Zach fuck him as hard as he wants.

Zach does fuck him hard, merciless. Harder than the first time.

Chris' dick is aching, caught between the wall and his stomach, but Zach doesn't touch him, just keeps driving into him relentlessly. Finally, Zach reaches around and Chris nearly chokes on his own relief. But Zach ignores his dick, takes his balls and squeezes so that Chris yelps.

"Not until I come," he says darkly and then he nips at Chris' shoulder again, hard this time and Chris knows it will leave a bruise. His hips cant back of their own volition, wanting more.

The rhythm of the thrusts becomes haphazard after that; less controlled. Zach's fingers spasm against his balls, his other hand moving up to clutch tightly at the back of Chris' neck. And then three quick thrusts and Zach is spilling inside of him, gasping hot into Chris' skin.

Finally, his chest heaving, he reaches for Chris' dick; long strokes while his other hand slides around to Chris' mouth, feeds him three fingers until he chokes on them and comes with a strangled moan.

Zach strokes him through it, and when Chris slumps forward, Zach slumps with him.

Chris tries to focus on his weight as he comes down from the high; on the unsteady rise and fall of their breaths. Not on the tangled thoughts running through his mind. Zach pulls the fingers from his mouth and he can breathe properly again. He has no idea what he's supposed to do now, but there's a hot ball of unease gathering in his chest.

Zach's hand slides through the cum on his stomach, resting there briefly, over his belly button. He presses his lips behind Chris' ear before he pulls back.

Hot tears sting Chris' eyes as he waits for Zach to let him go. Instead, he's turned around with gentle hands. There's no surprise in Zach's face as their eyes meet for the first time.

They're soft and uncertain as he whispers, "You okay?"

Chris has no idea why that makes the tears spill over.

Zach gathers him up, shushes him while gentle hands walk over his back. "Shhh, you're all right. You're safe. Shhh."

He's pressing kisses all over his face, lingers over the tear tracks, draws his tongue over them carefully. Chris tries to bring air into his lungs, but it feels like they're burning, and he just ends up gulping noisily. Zach cradles his skull. "You're all right…"

He nods into Zach's shoulder, trying to agree and also push closer. As if he can read his mind, Zach's arms tighten. Chris still feels like he can't breathe.

"I can't believe you came," he mumbles anyway, and has no idea if the words are intelligible.

Zach is quiet as he nuzzles at Chris' neck. Eventually he says, "You were going to let some stranger fuck you." It's not exactly an accusation. Or maybe it is. There's leftover growl in the words.

"Is that what that was?" Chris asks, still hoarse. "You were mad at me?"

"I was relieved," Zach's voice is tight. "That I got here before someone else came in." He pulls Chris closer. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Chris shakes his head. He doesn't know what he was thinking. "You came here too." He doesn't know why it's a challenge. They sort of broke up. He thought they did.

"You thought I came here to fuck someone else?" He pulls back and Chris can see his wide eyes; incredulous, in the dim light. "I went to your apartment. I called you twice on my way here." Chris silenced his phone before he left.

"What if I wasn't here?"

"Then I would have back gone to your apartment and waited to fuck you there." He pauses and with a touch less heat, says, "If you would have let me.

Chris nods, feeling too overwhelmed to reply. Zach frowns suddenly. "And if it _hadn't_ been me?" Demand, definitely irritated.

Chris pulls in a lungful of air, swallows through the prickling heat. "I was about to tell you to stop. Before you asked for my safeword. Before I realised it was you."

"Oh." Less frowny, but not entirely relieved. "You're not doing that again." Another pause. "Well. You can if you want, of course. I just…"

Chris touches his cheek and the fumbling words still. He makes sure Zach is looking at him. "I won't."

It's Zach who seems to be unable to reply then. He leans in, and they're quiet for long minutes as they kiss; soft though, no intention beyond comfort either in Zach's lips or the steady grip around the back of his neck. "I'm glad no one else got here first," he finally mumbles.

Chris thinks there will probably be more words about that later. About the guilt currently sitting heavy in his chest too. He can't help but ask, "You don't regret it?"

Zach shakes his head, but his teeth are worrying his lower lip.

"You sure?" Chris means to smile, make it light but it just comes out choked. Zach hugs him.

"Yeah. I don't know if I can do it all the time," the admission is stilted, fragile. "I like it… the other way too. With you."

"Here if you want," Chris says, although he realises that he isn't really being coherent. He just wants Zach to know it's okay. "We can keep it here."

"Maybe, I don't know… We'll figure it out."

Chris kisses him and some of the tension eases from his muscles. "I like it too."

"Yeah?"

Chris smiles. "Yeah."

Zach's inhale is slow, full of relief now. He kisses Chris' forehead. "Let me take care of you now. You're shivering."

"I am?"

He feels sort of not entirely _here_. But he doesn't know how to explain that. Zach rubs briskly at his arms. "And you're naked. Let's get you dressed. I have some cream for your ass first."

Chris blinks at him, finally feeling the cold shaking his frame. "You do?"

Zach zips up quickly, once the condom is pulled off; doesn't bother to tuck in his shirt. He's just wearing regular clothes, which makes sense if he wasn't planning on coming. Chris' stomach swoops at the thought. He wants to apologise, but everything feels upside down.

"Over here," Zach says quietly, leads him over to the bed against the wall—and his overnight bag. It's still almost too dark to see when their faces aren't close together. "Do you want to lie down?"

But Chris shakes his head. He just wants to… he doesn't even know. Zach seems to understand. He kisses him lightly, keeps a hand on his arm while he takes what he needs out of his bag.

"Come here," he murmurs, brings Chris in with one arm; trying to absorb his tremors, which are coming harder now. Zach wipes him down with a shirt from his bag. Using some damp towelettes too. He's not really sure how Zach manages, but he's got his cream uncapped after that and while Chris leans into him, he massages it carefully over the marks he clawed into Chris' skin.

Chris watches his face, waiting for the guilt; the freakout he thinks is inevitable. But Zach's face remains calm, hands steady as he works. "Can you spread your legs a bit for me?"

Drawing in a breath, Chris complies and cool fingers slide between his cheeks, rub carefully. "Don't clench up. Good boy…" A leftover shiver runs through him. Zach massages him carefully, coating him with the cream. It hurts all over. "All right?" Zach asks quietly, kisses his ear when he nods. "We'll need to do it again later, after you shower. Or a bath. Whatever you want. Where are you clothes?"

He has to find the light then, just one, but it's bright enough to actually see now without tripping. Zach still looks okay.

He helps him into his underwear and pants, and Chris thinks he should probably object to being dressed like a little kid, but he just moves the way Zach directs him to, wincing as the fabric scrapes over his ass.

He sees the flicker of worry in Zach's eyes, but no comment is made. Chris' hands are restless as Zach buttons up his shirt. And then he digs out the warm hoodie Chris thankfully thought to bring, drawing the hood over his head, and fuck he really is freezing. Zach chafes his arms again.

"Do you want to go now? How long did you book the room?"

"Three hours," Chris says softly. Zach's eyebrows rise up. "Just in case I needed… time afterward."

Zach nods carefully, but Chris can see that he wants to frown; probably wants to mention what an idiot he is for intending to let a stranger use him when he was so vulnerable. He doesn't though. He hugs him again and Chris clings without really meaning too; doesn't want to let go once he's latched on.

Zach holds him as long as he wants, presses kisses to his skin until Chris stops shaking. "We better go," Chris finally says, reluctantly. Zach squeezes him once more before gathering up their bags and taking Chris' hand.

They make their way quickly through the club, which isn't winding down yet; it seems more crowded.

Chris starts shivering anew as soon as the night air hits his face. Zach pulls him into his side. "Where did you park?"

Chris looks around the street blankly. Zach spots it first.

"What about yours?" Chris asks, chattering.

"I'll get it in the morning. I'll drive." He has to work his fingers into Chris' jeans, and Chris lets him.

Zach's hand doesn't leave his leg the entire trip. Thankfully, it doesn't take long. Chris is still freezing, his teeth clicking with it by the time they park—at Chris' apartment.

"Noah and Harold—"

"They're fine," Zach shushes him, squeezes his knee before he slides out and comes around to Chris' side.

"I'm okay," Chris mumbles. Zach murmurs agreement and takes his hand to lead him upstairs.

"Do you want a shower or just sleep?"

"Bed."

Zach insists on more creams and warm sweats, with which Chris readily agrees even though he usually prefers to sleep naked. Zach opts for just underwear. They curl up together underneath the blankets.

"We should talk about…"

"We will," Zach interjects softly. Kisses the side of his head. "I promise. Sleep first. We can hash it all out tomorrow."

Chris is already yawning, so he agrees, mumbly. "OK."

"OK," Zach murmurs back.

Chris' eyelids are heavy. He blinks himself back awake. "You won't leave?"

Zach tightens his hold. "I won't leave."

Chris settles more comfortably against his chest. His ass is pleasantly numb now. "It was good," he mumbles, just in case it needs to be said. Zach kisses his hair again, fingers moving in soothing patterns across his stomach.

Finally warm again, Chris lets himself sleep.


	29. Back to Earth

Zach is already awake by the time Chris finds consciousness again. Chris stares at him through groggy eyes, trying to figure out what he's thinking. His expression is impossible to read. But they're sharing the same pillow, so it can't be all that bad. "Hi," he ventures. Zach's eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Hi." He reaches out to smooth his palm down Chris' side. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Weird. But good weird."

Zach smiles a little. "There's good weird?"

"Um, I guess?" Chris is still trying to decipher his expression. "Are you mad?"

A slow inhale, a deceptively quizzical, "Should I be?"

Which is not fair. "You said you wanted to let me go."

Sighing, Zach slips a hand beneath his t-shirt, not moving; just cupped, warm and heavy. "Yeah, I did. That was stupid. I don't want that."

Chris nods, trying not to show how relieved he is.

Before he can continue on with the rest of it though, Zach asks, "Can I check your back?"

Honestly, Chris would rather he didn't. He's afraid it will break the calm exterior Zach seems to have settled on. But… if he's going to freak out, it's probably better to get it out of the way. So he nods and lets Zach slide off his shirt, and then settles back down on the mattress, chin propped on his wrists and wishes he could see Zach's face. His fingers are very careful to only touch around the sore spots. They skim close to his waistband. "Can I?"

Chris lifts his hips, his face going red although he can't really account for why. Zach's inhale is too noticeable.

"Is it…" Chris doesn't know want to ask if it's ok. Zach kisses just above his tailbone.

"It's a little bruised."

Chris nods casually, although what he'd like to do is check it out in the mirror. He wonders if they look like the first set of bruises he left.

"I should put something on the scratches," Zach says. "You'll have to wait to take a shower though. Unless you want to do that first?"

Chris does. He feels gross. Zach carefully pulls his pants up, which seems silly since Chris is about to take them off again. He's careful too when he stands up. He hesitates, wondering if he should ask Zach to come with him, but Zach solves that by simply taking his hand and leading him in.

Chris thinks he could get used to that.

Zach fiddles with the water while Chris gets naked. Zach frowns when he turns back around, moves in to rub at his arms—which, Chris realises, he's got crossed over his chest like he's freezing. "I'm okay," he says, smiling.

Zach nods, but Chris isn't sure if he's just humouring him. Either way, once the water is warm enough, they step in together and Zach makes sure Chris has most of the spray—definitely humouring him, then. Not that he's complaining.

He sighs, content, as Zach soaps his back. It stings a little over some of the scratches, but he doesn't mind that either. Closes his eyes when the slippery fingers slide between his ass cheeks. He spreads his legs without being asked, and Zach makes a soft noise.

Chris glances up at him, finds concentration and something that might be contentment on Zach's face as well. It's encouraging. He tucks back into Zach's neck before he's caught, and relaxes so that Zach's fingers can do their work.

Unfortunately, his asshole is a little more beat up than the rest of him. He hisses as soon as he's touched. Zach stills, but doesn't pull away. "Sore?" he asks, very quiet against Chris' ear.

"Mm."

"I'll put something on it when we get out."

Chris nods; words seem unreachable. Zach finds his chin, pulls his face up to kiss him gently. His fingers slide away from his ass and Chris wants them back again. "Fuck me?" His dick is pressing into Zach's thigh.

"Not while you're so sore." He does take Chris' dick though. Chris hurries to reciprocate, losing his grip on Zach's cock twice in his haste. Zach laughs into his mouth, which somehow just makes the mutual handjobs in the shower even better.

Zach soaps him up again after they come. The water is starting to lose its heat by that time so they get out, dripping all over the rug. He lets Zach dry him off too.

He can see his face in the mirror, and he really does seem okay. "You need to get back to Noah and Harold?"

"They're with Joe. I took them before I went to your apartment. I can stay as long as you need."

Chris nods. It's probably time to get back to the other stuff. He waits until the creams are busy soaking into his skin and Zach's pulling on a clean shirt.

Chris is on the bed, naked except for underwear. "How did you know I was in the club?"

Zach pauses in his tugging. "I saw your car."

"Oh." A pause while Chris watches his face, wondering how much of a mad dash it was to get inside so quickly. "But what made you think I would…"

"Be that stupid?"

Chris blinks at that.

"Because it was, you know. You weren't in any kind of state to go off and sub for someone you don't even know."

Chris doesn't remind him that he did it once before. Or that Zach has done it apparently millions of times. It's not the same and he knows it. The squirming guilt in his stomach doesn't help either. "I know."

"Well," Zach says as he finishes straightening his shirt. "Good."

Chris watches his face as he stuffs his dirty clothes in a different section of the bag, but he can't tell much. "Are you sure you're not mad?" he finally asks. Straightforward might work.

Zach looks up, smiles a little. "I'm not mad."

"OK." Chris picks at the edge of his sheet. "I'm sorry… about that." Maybe not entirely straightforward.

Zach puts his bag aside and comes back to bed, pulling him close as soon as he's parallel. His throat suddenly tight, Chris hides his face in Zach's neck again.

"Hey," Zach says softly, and Chris sort of wishes he wasn't being such a big baby. "It's okay," Zach mumbles into his hair. "I was being an idiot, so it's my own fault. I promise I'm not mad."

It's not just that, but Chris figures he knows. Zach sighs, kisses his shoulder. "Look, I don't love the idea of you going there to let someone else fuck you. But it didn't happen, and you said you wouldn't do it again, so… we're good."

"I won't."

"I know."

"You didn't call," Chris tries to explain. "So, I thought—"

"I know." Zach's voice sounds scratchy. Chris hugs him harder. They're quiet for awhile. Long enough that Zach tugs the blankets up around them again even though Chris isn't cold.

"I don't want to go back there," Zach eventually says.

Chris tries not to let the disappointment show. "Okay."

Zach squeezes the back of his neck. "It's not the sex. I didn't like not being home where I could take care of you."

"Oh." Chris' heart is thudding, but he's not sure if he's worried or relieved. Zach breathes deeply, and his exhale scatters goosebumps over Chris' neck.

"I wish you hadn't gone," Zach adds quietly. "But... it's probably good that you did."

"Good?"

"Yeah." He doesn't go on right away, but Chris just waits. Even though his stomach is turning somersaults.

"I don't think it would have worked as well here. But you were right. It was different. Better. Than with people I didn't care about." He noses at Chris' hair. "Much better. I wasn't… expecting that."

Chris lifts his head, unable to stop his smile.

"I didn't know if I wanted to fuck you when I went in there," Zach goes on, and some of the giddiness fades. Zach smiles, scratches gently at his bicep. "I _was_ kind of mad at you. But then I saw you… kneeling there like that. You were gorgeous. And so beautifully submissive."

Zach swallows, reaches out to trace his cheekbone. Chris focuses on that instead of the way his cock twitches at the words.

"You responded so well to my touch," Zach says softly. "To everything."

"I loved it."

"I know." Another comforting scratch of those nails.

"What about you?" Chris asks, tentative, unsure of the hesitation he can sense; Zach's eyes are wandering. "Did you like it?"

Zach turns back to him again, smiles. "You couldn't tell?"

Chris flushes. "No, I could, I just—"

Zach kisses him lightly. "I liked it too, and I want you to sub for me again."

Heat prickles across Chris' skin. " _Really_?"

"Yeah. I'll try not to be an idiot about it again, but yeah. Just not there."

Chris tries not to nod too vigorously. "OK."

Zach considers him with a growing smirk. "You're totally excited, aren't you?"

"Um… yes?"

Zach's eyes are sparkling with amusement. "You can be excited."

Chris lets his grin take over his face. Just for a second because he's kissing Zach too thoroughly. "And we don't have to play all the time or anything," he says when they pause; although Zach's lips have just moved to his jaw.

"Sometimes though," Zach says quietly. "Whenever you want."

"Or when you do."

And although he nods, Chris thinks it might take a bit longer before Zach feels comfortable enough to suggest it. Which is fine. Chris kisses him, just to make sure he knows everything is good. Zach relaxes into him and it feels good to reassure him too.

It's amazing how different everything feels. "I can't believe your therapist told you to dump me," he sighs, and then immediately regrets it when Zach grimaces. "Sorry—"

"No, it's fine. It's just… it wasn't entirely my therapist."

Chris squints an eye at him, but at this point Zach could pretty much say anything and he'd be good with it. "He didn't actually tell you to break up with me, did he?"

"Well, we did talk about that option. And a lot of other things. I just… sort of focused on that part. I didn't want to be a dick." Irony curves his lips. "I realise it didn't actually work out that way."

"It worked out better."

Zach tilts his head, smiles eventually. "Yeah, it did." He takes Chris' face between his hands. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

Chris can feel his face growing hot. Zach smiles. "I like it when you blush." He kisses his cheek softly. "I like to make you blush."

That just makes his face hotter. And his cock thicker. God, he could get used to this. "What else do you like?"

"A lot of things," Zach says into his lips. "All sort of things."

"Will you show me some time?"

Zach sucks at his lower lip. "Maybe. If you're a good boy."

"Jesus…"

Zach smiles. "You like that."

"Yeah…"

Zach slides a hand between them, tugs Chris' shorts down and tucks the waistband under his balls. "Christ, you're hard. Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?"

Chris makes an undignified noise and Zach grins.


	30. The Beginning

"You ready?"

Zach takes a quick breath, but he's nodding and sliding out of the car in the next second. Chris gets out too, waits for him to come around. They're having brunch with Chris' parents, and Zach's been jumpy about it all morning.

Katie has been given strict instructions to be on her best behavior. Chris' parents don't seem concerned that he and Zach were at odds a month ago. His mom asked him if he was happy and his affirmative response was apparently all she needed to get on board.

"You look happy," Zach murmurs as he slides an arm around his waist.

Chris smiles at him. "I am."

Smiling too, Zach kisses him. "Good. Come on, you're probably starving. You haven't eaten in at least an hour."

Chris pokes his chest. "Quiet, you."

Zach catches his hand, twining their fingers so he can pull him in for another kiss. He's not usually so affectionate in public, but he's also not usually about to meet his boyfriend's parents, and said boyfriend's sister, who may or may not be too keen on the whole thing.

When they turn back to the house, Zach keeps him close, their fingers still laced together.

Katie is waiting for them at the door with a smile. Chris wonders how long she's been watching.

Long enough, it seems.

She ignores Zach's offer of a handshake, pulls him in for a hug instead. Even gives him a kiss on the cheek. Zach's worried expression has transformed into a smile. Katie links arms with him and Chris is left to make his own way into the house.

He doesn't mind in the least.

\---

They go to the first read-through the next day.

Everyone's tired, blinking behind glasses and giant mugs of coffee. Zach and Chris are sort of slumped next to each other, mostly Chris leaning against Zach's arm while Zach reads through his script; both bundled up in hoodies because it's too early and Zach wouldn't let him bring a blanket to snuggle under.

"We can't snuggle at the read-through," he'd said firmly while wrestling it from Chris' fingers an hour ago. Chris would be more annoyed about that but Zach bought him a huge coffee on the way here. And also, he's warm.

J.J. finally comes in after being a big jerkface and making them wait twenty minutes while he did whatever the fuck a director does before read-throughs. He's got a diet coke in one hand, a script in the other and a way too cheerful smile on his face for this early in the morning.

They're all going to die during the next six months; Chris can feel it.

"Is everyone here?" J.J. asks to the room in general. A few grunts are his answer. He seems unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm. "Is everyone ready?"

His eyes glance over the room, halting at Chris and Zach. He looks confused for a second, like he doesn't understand the concept of using a person's bicep for a pillow. Zach makes a fucking great pillow though, so Chris just makes a shruggy eyebrow sort of face. Zach doesn't even look up from his script.

J.J. nods a little, lips thoughtful as he shrugs. He turns to his assistant, asks for another diet coke and gets the read-through underway.

Reluctant to move, Chris straightens with a sigh and opens his script. Beneath the table, Zach nudges his knee. Chris glances sideways at him and they both smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over. Even more, I can't believe I finished it. I want to thank everyone who commented and encouraged along the way. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept me going. Thank you, all my dear readers, for allowing me to share, and for indulging me in my madness. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
>  _Watership Down_ is a real book. Written by Richard Adams, it is the book that echoes in my blood, and always will.


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